


Out Of The Shadows

by kcstories



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Lives, Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Good Dumbledore, Happy Ending, Hogwarts Era, M/M, Remus Lupin Lives, Secret Relationship, Severus Snape Lives, Sirius Black Lives, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, flangst, secret friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-07
Updated: 2010-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-08 18:38:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 32,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcstories/pseuds/kcstories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of vignettes offering an alternate take on Harry and Draco's time at Hogwarts. A scary encounter during detention changes things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Detention

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything you recognise from the books (or films). It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Bros., and any other entities involved. The first two lines of dialogue in this story are taken from the "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" film.  
> A/N: Originally written between September 2006 and June 2007. This story is complete, and is being reposted with minor edits. If you have an older version somewhere, please bin it.  
> Warnings: AU/AR (takes quite a detour from canon). Fluff. Flangst. Strong language and sexual content in later chapters.  
> Ships: Harry/Draco, Hermione/Theodore, Neville/Ginny.

"If I didn't know any better, Draco, I'd say you were scared."

"I'm not scared, Potter." He forces out a chuckle, but honestly, he isn't fooling anyone, least of all himself.

This forest has always creeped him out. After all, he's heard plenty of stories about the place, about the banshees and the werewolves and all those other creatures, the ones that are too awful to even think about; they'll follow you home, they'll hide in your wardrobe, they'll crawl under your bed, and then, in the middle of the night, when you're fast asleep, they'll sneak up on you and suck out your soul.

Draco shudders. He tightens his grip on the large lantern he's holding. It isn't much of a comfort, not really, but right now, he'll take any kind of reassurance he can get.

They turn another corner and are greeted by a horrifying sight. Some dark creature, its features partly concealed by a hooded cloak, is feeding off a freshly killed unicorn. White fangs glisten ferociously in the moonlight and the metallic smell of blood taints the night air.

Harry's mouth flies open in fascinated horror. The scene in front of him is sickening and yet, he can't bring himself to look away. He stands there and stares in horrified awe.

Draco, on the other hand, feels as though he's faced with his worst nightmare; and in a sense, he is.

So he screams at the top of his lungs, and he starts to run, as fast as his legs can carry him, not even caring where he ends up. (Anywhere will do, as long as it's far away from here.)

Snapped back to reality by his classmate's terrified screams, Harry whips around. He no longer sees Draco, but he can still catch a glimpse of the light of the lantern as it disappears out of sight, fades fast in the distance.

Harry sighs. He's well aware that Draco's a prat, and it's not like they ever got along—quite the opposite, in fact—but still... He doesn't think anyone should be running through this dangerous forest by themselves, and no one should be that scared, and he may not like Draco, not in the least, but that doesn't mean he wants him to get hurt. (Harry hates it when people get hurt.)

So he races after his classmate, follows the glow of the lantern, focuses on the only light in the pitch black forest, that doesn't come from the moon.

Suddenly, a dull thud is heard and the lantern's light goes out.

Harry runs some more and he's very relieved when he spots Draco, but then he's very worried, because the boy's lying on the ground; he's crying, his face is muddy and one of his sleeves is torn.

"Are you hurt?" Harry asks.

"No," Draco lies. "Go away, Potter!'"

Harry shakes his head. He's not going anywhere. That just wouldn't be right. "I only want to help you, Draco," he says softly. "You hurt yourself, didn't you?"

The boy huffs in response, but he seems too tired to get into a real argument. "My ankle," he admits, reluctantly.

Harry bites his lip. "Can you stand up?"

"I—" Draco begins, and adds quickly, in what he hopes is a threatening way (but it isn't, it comes across as rather pathetic, actually), "If you tell anyone about this, Potter..."

Harry shrugs. "It's dark and there are these enormous tree roots everywhere. Anyone could trip. It's no big deal."

Draco frowns. "You're not planning to tell them about...?"

Harry shakes his head. He supposes he could tell people, though, and it'd be a good laugh, Malfoy running like a coward, but it doesn't seem fair, making fun of someone just because they were afraid. After all, everyone's afraid of something.

"Can you stand up, Draco?" he asks again, and he holds out his hand.

"Um, yeah, I reckon so." Draco looks up and hesitantly takes the outstretched hand. "Oh," he says, once he's back on his feet. "Look at my robes. What a mess!" (And wouldn't Father be furious?)

Harry grins. "Your face is filthy, too."

"Oh." Draco quickly goes through his robe pockets, in search of a handkerchief.

"Here," Harry says. He offers him a white cloth. It has the Gryffindor crest embroidered on it. "I took it from the Common Room earlier, in case I needed to wrap something up. Looks like you can make better use of it, though."

"Thanks," Draco says awkwardly and proceeds to wipe his face. "All gone?" he asks when he's finished.

Harry nods. "As good as."

"Um, Potter," Draco mutters, as if he's suddenly remembered something, "That... thing back there... it..."

"…was too busy eating," Harry reassures him. "It didn't follow me."

"Oh, good," he mumbles. "All right, then. I guess we'd best get back, as soon as... " He wrings his hands together and tries to ignore how filthy they are. (Dirt under his fingernails—that just won't do!) "I mean, we still have to look for..."

Harry nods slowly. They glance around and then Draco spots them first, the small blue specks of light, the tiny blue petals that almost shine. "Say, Potter, aren't those...?"

"Yeah, I think they are," he says with a smile.

They pick two flowers, just like Hagrid instructed.

"Are you sure you can make it back all right?" Harry asks.

"Yeah," Draco says. "No problem."

But it is, though, just a little. His ankle hurts and he has a slight limp he can't hide, no matter how hard he tries.

"I'll take the lantern," Harry says, and he grabs his companion's hand, too.

When Draco looks at him, a confused look on his pale face, Harry explains, "I'm not letting you fall again." (It's not like he wants to hold Draco's hand, or anything. That would be awfully strange, not to mention, kind of girly.)

Draco bites his lip, nods, and they quietly make their way back to the castle.

Hagrid, who's sitting by the door, waiting, gives the two boys a questioning look as they approach hand in hand, but as soon as he notices Draco's limp, he leaps up and rushes forward. "What 'appened 'ere, then? Are ye hurt, lad?"

Draco doesn't protest when the Half-Giant lifts him up and carries him off. He pays no attention to Weasley and Granger, either, when they return with their flowers. But over Hagrid's shoulder, he does look at Harry.

Harry glances up at Draco at the same time, and Harry smiles, because it's the polite thing to do.

Draco smiles back and then the smile turns into a grin. It's spontaneous, genuine and almost conspiratorial, and Harry doesn't think the two of them will ever be enemies anymore.


	2. Mirror Image

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry dealt with Quirrel-Voldemort and landed himself in the hospital wing. In the dead of night, Draco visits him there.

"Wait here and keep watch," he tells them.

The two large boys nod. They don't know why they're here, at one in the morning, but they don't think to ask, either. They just do what they're told, as always.

Carefully, Draco sneaks into the infirmary.

"Third on the right," the girl told him earlier, the one he gave lots of chocolate, just so he could find out where Harry was.

He moves the white curtain aside and steps closer to the bed. "Potter?" he whispers. "Harry? Are you awake?"

Green eyes flutter open and squint at him. "Who's there?"

Draco takes the glasses from the bedside table and hands them to the other boy. "Only me."

"Malfoy?"

"No. It's clearly Professor Snape, you gigantic prat," he says with a soft chuckle.

Harry grins back sheepishly, before he asks, "What are you doing here, Draco? It's the middle of the night."

He smirks. "Obviously, I've come to check up on my favourite enemy, see what you're up to, thwart any evil plans you may be concocting, that kind of thing..."

Harry shakes his head and laughs. "You could have come by earlier, you know."

"No, I couldn't have." He crosses his arms. "The place was positively _crawling_ with Gryffindors, all the bloody time. You've got yourself quite a fanclub there, Potter."

Harry sighs. "I don't mind them knowing we get on now, you know," he says softly. "It's a bit silly, keeping our friendship a secret, isn't it? We're not doing anything wrong."

"Yeah, but..." Draco swallows hard. He wonders if he should tell. Then he sees the way Harry's looking at him, all wide-eyed and sincere, and he doesn't think it could do any harm. Besides, he doesn't want to ruin their friendship (that's still so new and fragile) with secrets and lies, either. He takes a deep breath and he mutters, "It's not your Housemates I'm worried about, Harry. It's..." He hesitates, before he adds, almost inaudibly, "It's my father."

"Your father?"

Draco bites his lip. "He's not a terribly nice man."

"What? You mean he'd hurt you if you were friends with me?"

Draco shakes his head. "No. Quite the opposite, I think. He'd probably want me to spy on you or something and then he'd be nasty to mother if I didn't do it properly and frankly, I wouldn't want to do it at all, because"—he sighs—"well, you're my friend, aren't you?"

"Oh." Harry frowns. "But at the beginning of the school year, Draco, you..."

"Yeah," he says quickly. "I offered you my friendship. I know. And I wasn't trying to trick you, if that's what you're thinking... I didn't..." His lip trembles.

"What is it, Draco?" Harry grabs the boy's hand. He seems to be doing that a lot lately, but it's not something he really thinks about, even though he never does this with Hermione or Ron. He rarely touches them at all. He supposes Draco's just different. They seem to be closer, somehow, or they're just another kind of friends; he's not sure.

Draco takes a deep breath. "Father was very angry at me when you turned me down. I think he knew about... you know, the thing that happened with Professor Quirrel... Father supports… _Him_. I think he expected me to keep a close eye on you. But I didn't know that, Harry, back then, and I wouldn't have approached you, I swear... I'm not..." He doesn't quite know how to say it, so he just settles for, "some kind of phoney."

Harry smiles. "I believe you," he says softly. "Your father sounds a lot like my uncle Vernon. He's a big bully too, does a lot of shouting, is always disappointed in me. He hates me 'cause I'm a wizard, I think. I suppose he doesn't understand our kind."

"Dumb people always pick on things they don't understand." Draco remembers his mother telling him that once, so he's sure it must be true.

Harry just nods and slowly rubs his thumb over the back of Draco's hand. It keeps surprising him that they have so much in common. He used to assume that Draco was horribly spoiled by both his parents. Now, however, Harry realises that while the boy's mum sounds nice enough, the same really can't be said for Mister Malfoy.

"Anyway, how are you doing?" Draco asks. He feels a little silly and selfish, standing there, almost crying, while Harry's the one who got hurt today.

"I'm all right now," he says. "They'll probably let me go tomorrow."

"That's good."

Harry smiles, and then they're quiet for a little while. Harry's glad that Draco's with him, because Draco's different from the others. He doesn't ask awkward questions, he doesn't fuss over him and he doesn't treat him like he's one of Aunt Petunia's ugly, expensive and very breakable mantelpiece ornaments.

"You know," Harry says, suddenly remembering something, "I found this really cool mirror the other day."

"Mirror?"

"Yeah. It lets me see my parents. It doesn't let me talk to them, though, but maybe I just haven't figured out how yet. Maybe we could try and work that out together?"

Draco nods and he listens while Harry talks about the magic mirror and Quirrel and Hagrid and Quidditch and a lot of other things.

It's three in the morning when he finally shakes Crabbe and Goyle awake in the corridor. They're a bit grumpy, but Draco doesn't care. He enjoys spending time with Harry. He supposes Harry's sort of his best fiend now, even if he can't tell anyone about it, not even Vince and Greg. Just as well, he thinks, that those two never ask questions; they may be thick as two planks, but at least they know when to keep their mouths shut.

 

***

 

A few hours later, just before breakfast, Draco sneaks down to the room Harry told him about, the one with the mirror.

Crabbe and Goyle wait outside the door. They're munching on some muffins they stole from the kitchen and they're doing their best not to leave any crumbs. They know Draco will be quite cross if they do, because he told them three times before he went in, "Don't be seen and don't make any mess!"

Inside the room, Draco walks towards the life-sized mirror. He pulls down the white sheet. He watches and waits, expecting to come face to face with Harry's parents. He doesn't know what he'll tell them, but he hopes he can figure out how to get them to talk. That would be such a nice surprise for Harry when he gets discharged this afternoon.

Draco's eyes widen when an image appears. Instead of the Potters, however, Harry and himself come into view. They're sitting back to back in a garden, the big garden at Malfoy Manor. They're talking and laughing and then Draco's mum walks over with a large tray of chocolate biscuits.

Draco frowns. He regards the Harry in the mirror a little more closely and notices that this boy has no scar on his forehead. This Harry isn't the one You-Know-Who couldn't kill. He's just an ordinary boy. He's Draco's best friend.

Draco takes a deep breath. Suddenly, he understands. He also realises he has to talk to Harry as soon as possible. He has to tell him his parents aren't in that mirror; only his hopes, his dreams and his greatest wishes are.

And then Draco feels a little sad. Part of his own wish has already come true; Harry is his friend now, even if it has to be a secret; but Harry... Harry will never get his heart's desire; he'll never get his parents back. They're gone forever.

Feeling defeated, Draco exits the room and quietly shuts the door behind him. "Let's go," he says to Crabbe and Goyle, and when the three of them ascend the stairs and walk in the direction of the Great Hall, Draco realises something else.

Some day, his father will be very disappointed in him. He only hopes his mother will understand.


	3. Back To School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the start of second year. The boys reunite after the summer.

"Draco?" he enquires in a soft voice. "Are you in here?"

"Yes," comes a whispered response. "By the window, Potter."

"Oh. Okay."

The small room, the one they started using as their secret meeting place last May, is pretty dark now, save for the light of the stars, but that suits Harry just fine. He likes the Astronomy Tower and he's always been fond of the darkness, too. It's usually quiet at night, when it's dark. People aren't shouting then, not even Uncle Vernon.

He takes a few steps closer and smiles down at the blond boy who immediately returns his smile.

"Hi," Harry says. "Sorry I'm late. Ron kept going on and on about that bloody flying car."

"That's all right."

Harry frowns. _No sarcastic remark?_

"I was a little worried when you didn't show up." Draco admits softly. "I thought maybe you wouldn't be here this year. I'm glad I was wrong."

"You were worried?" Harry sits down on the floor, next to his friend. "Whatever made you think I wouldn't I be here?"

Draco shrugs. "I thought maybe those Muggles had sent you to a regular school, or to Durmstrang."

"What's... _Dumb-stang_?"

"Durmstrang's a prestigious Wizard School in Northern Europe. It's Purebloods only, normally, but I'm sure they'd make an exception for Harry Potter."

"Oh."

"My father keeps threatening to send me there," Draco mutters, sounding both annoyed and just a little scared.

Harry blinks. "Why?"

"They teach Dark Arts."

"Harry bites his lip. "Is that even allowed?"

"Over there, it is, apparently."

"That's not good."

"No. It isn't."

This seems like an appropriate time to take Draco's hand, so Harry does. Draco smiles and links their fingers.

"I wish I could have Owled you or something," Harry says.

"Yes, that would have been nice. You know..." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry about... what happened at the bookstore. My father was being sort of... and you know, I had to... I couldn't not..." He sighs.

"It's okay." Harry squeezes Draco's hand. "I know you didn't mean any of it."

"And that thing I said about the Weasley girl..."

Harry chuckles. "Yeah. That one's kind of scary, actually. Maybe you weren't that far off with the 'girlfriend' thing, either..."

"Oh?" Draco frowns. His stomach clenches oddly and he doesn't know why. "What do you mean?"

"She follows me everywhere, given half the chance. She was always hanging around me at The Burrow as well."

"Do you like her?" Draco asks quickly and then that clenching feeling is back again, too.

"Naah." Harry shakes his head and laughs. "Girls are dead strange, if you ask me, especially that one."

Draco chuckles. He thinks about his Housemate Pansy Parkinson. She's a great friend, no doubt about that, but she's been acting mighty peculiar lately, and the giggling really gets on his nerves. If all girls are like that, all the time, he doesn't suppose he'll bother with them.

"So what happened with that car, anyway?" he asks Harry.

Harry grins. He starts to tell of his and Ron's adventure again, but this time, he does so with a lot more enthusiasm than before, because it's Draco he's talking to.

Soon they're chatting away happily.

Harry realises he missed this boy very much during the summer and it's really good to finally be back at Hogwarts.


	4. Things Untold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco visits Harry in the hospital wing after Harry dealt with Tom Riddle in the Chamber Of Secrets.

"One of these days, Potter, your daft heroics are going to get you killed."

Harry looks up and smiles. "Draco."

"Obviously," he says with a grin. "Who else would be sneaking around at this time of night to visit you? Just as well that I know where you keep your cloak now, or this would have been much more difficult. So..." He sits down on the edge of the bed. "Been waiting for me, have you?"

"Um, what makes you say that?"

Draco chuckles. "You're still wearing your glasses, Harry. Dead giveaway, that."

"Oh." Harry grins back sheepishly and grabs his friend's hand. "Yeah. Right."

"What happened, anyway?" Draco asks. There's a worried expression on his face. It's one not many people get to see. "You look like hell, Potter."

"Thanks a lot," Harry says. It's his way to try and keep the mood light, but it doesn't exactly work. "I met him, Draco," he finally says in a small voice. "He was there."

"Him?" the Slytherin repeats with a frown.

"Voldemort."

"What?!" Draco exclaims in horror, temporarily forgetting they're in the hospital wing, where he's not supposed to yell at all.

Harry swallows hard. He doesn't really want to talk about this, not again, but he also thinks that Draco has a right to know. As it is, Harry already feels pretty rotten that he never said anything about the diary before. He realises now that he shouldn't have kept that a secret, not from Draco. He takes a deep breath.

"Remember that diary?"

"Diary?" Draco frowns. "You mean the one the Weaselette was always running around with?"

"Her name's Ginny," Harry corrects him; doing so has become a habit, even though Harry knows only too well that Draco's attitude towards the Weasleys will probably never change. "And yes, that diary."

"What about it?"

"It made this bloke called Tom Riddle appear," Harry starts to explain. "I saw him... down in the Chamber Of Secrets. Turns out he was... well... Voldemort..."

"Of course he was Vol- I mean … _him_." Draco shakes his head. "Tom Marvolo Riddle is The Dark Lord's given name. Surely, everybody knows that?!"

"No, clearly not everybody," Harry snaps. He pulls his hand away, out of Draco's grip, and adds bitterly, "It seems I was the huge plonker who didn't have a clue. As usual." He crosses his arms defensively, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid.

Draco bites his lip. "Sorry, Harry," he says softly. "I didn't... I mean... I sometimes forget you didn't grow up the way I did. Who would have told you these things anyway? Certainly not those stupid Muggles..." He holds out his hand. "Harry?"

The Gryffindor doesn't move a muscle. A tense silence sets in.

"Fine," Draco says after a few minutes. "You be that way, but if you're just going to sit there and sulk, no reason for me to lose any more sleep tonight, is there, Potter? I'm going back to my dorm."

He gets up to leave, but then there's a hand on his arm.

"Draco..." Harry sounds urgent, slightly panicked even. "No. Don't go. Please? I... You-You couldn't have known that Dumbledore didn't tell me. And if everyone else knew, then there was no reason for you to assume that I didn't."

"That's right," Draco says, "and he should have told you, you know. Someone should have bloody told you..."

Harry nods slowly. "Ginny almost died. And if Fawkes hadn't healed me when he did..."

"Look..." Draco sits back down on the bed and takes Harry's hand again. "How about, the next time you need to know something, or you're not sure about something to do with Hogwarts or the wizarding world, you come straight to me? I'd never lie to you, Harry, and I know quite a bit. And even if it's something I don't know, there's a good chance I'll be able to find out for you. There's a lot of knowledge floating around in Slytherin, after all..."

"All right," Harry says. "That sounds like a plan."

Draco smiles. "We have ourselves a deal then," he says, and adds with a grin, "So tell me, Potter, how does the Wea- Ginny feel about having a personal hero?"

Harry shrugs. "Dunno. Haven't seen her yet. They're not keeping her overnight, though, so I suppose she's okay."

"Ah." Draco grins mischievously. "Expect to be thoroughly gushed over tomorrow, then."

"Spare me." Harry chuckles. "So... How about you, Malfoy?"

Draco frowns. "What about me?"

"The Pansy Pug."

"Don't call her that."

"Sorry," he says, even though the look on his face reveals that he's nothing of the sort. "So er... she still likes you, does she?"

Smiling, Draco shakes his head. "She's got a thing for Zabini now, actually. So the two of us are back to the way we were before, without her trying any of that yucky, awkward touchy-feely stuff with me; thank Merlin!"

"Oh. Good." Harry says, and he briefly looks down at their clasped hands. He wonders if this isn't also considered _touchy-feely stuff_, but then he decides that it isn't, or at least, it's a different kind, because this is Draco and they're always like this now, aren't they?

Sometimes, Harry wonders if all this means anything: the way they hold hands when they meet and the way they sometimes hug and every time they do, those hugs last a little longer than the ones with other people.

Sometimes, Harry wants to mention this to Draco, ask him how he feels on the subject, but in the end, Harry never does.

Truthfully, Harry's scared that if Draco starts to think about it, really think about how they act around each other and how close they've become, that he'll decide that it's weird and inappropriate, especially for two boys, and that he won't want to hold Harry's hand anymore.

And Harry really doesn't want Draco to stop holding his hand.


	5. What Lurks Beneath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third year. First day back.

"You fainted? You actually _fainted_?"

It's not the first time Harry hears those words today and they infuriate him all over again. Standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, he fixes the speaker with an icy glare. "Yeah, I did. And thanks a whole bunch for bringing that to the attention of the entire Great Hall, by the way, you wanker!"

Draco gets up from his usual spot on the floor. "Look, Harry," he says, slowly walking towards his friend. "I was just worried about you. Very worried, as it happens. We hadn't seen or heard from each other all summer, obviously, and when I found out about what happened on the train, I thought you were sick. I thought those blasted Muggles... Well, I didn't know what to think, frankly, and it's not like I could have done anything to help you at the time, either, but still, I…" He takes a deep breath. "I am sorry if I handled the whole thing er... like a Hufflepuff?"

Harry has to chuckle at that. "Having you re-sorted into that House might just be a fitting punishment for your earlier behaviour. Prat."

"I missed you, you know," Draco points out. He's standing right in front of Harry now, looking both sincere and regretful. "And the first thing I heard when I entered my Common Room was that you'd fainted. No fun at all, let me assure you. So... What happened?"

"A Dementor attacked me."

"What? One of those… _things_ from Azkaban? Why would they come after you?"

Harry shrugs. "I'm not sure. Maybe because of my connection to Voldemort?"

Draco forces himself not to flinch at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. "All right. And then what happened?"

"I passed out, and Professor Lupin, the new DADA teacher—I don't know if you've met him yet—dealt with it." Harry hesitates a few moments, before he adds in a shaky voice, "I heard my mum scream, like on the night she... You know, like in those nightmares I have... and then I blacked out."

Draco nods. "It's all right. You're safe here at Hogwarts," he says soothingly and pulls his friend into a tight hug. "They won't be able to get to you here. Dumbledore will see to that."

Harry clings to Draco for a few minutes, feeling relieved as he's reminded once again of how his Slytherin friend isn't like Ron or Hermione. The boy doesn't fuss or ask a million questions; he just holds him and waits for the shaking to stop. Harry wonders why they can't be like this all the time, why they have to keep up these stupid pretences. Rationally, he knows the reasons only too well, of course, but that doesn't mean he also considers them fair, and neither does it stop him from dreaming of a nicer reality, one where he can be open about this friendship that means so much to him.

"Let's sit down, huh?" Draco suggests after a few minutes. He takes Harry by the hand and they move to where they always sit.

A brief silence sets in. Harry knows that Draco can tell that there's something amiss, but again, no avalanche of questions ensues. Maybe, Harry thinks, this is exactly why it's so much easier to tell Draco these things than Hermione. With her, everything turns into an interrogation sooner or later and the majority of her questions, he can never answer.

Harry finally speaks up again. "Um... there's something else, too..."

"Yes?" Draco looks down at their intertwined hands.

"Sirius Black is after me," Harry says quietly.

Draco's eyes widen. "What? Who told you that?"

"Arthur Weasley."

"What else did he tell you about Black?" Draco asks carefully.

"Not much." Harry frowns in confusion. "Why? Is there anything about him that I should know?"

Draco hesitates briefly, takes a deep breath, and then says, "He's the one who betrayed your parents to the Da— to Vol-de-mort."

"Oh." Harry shivers. "Oh no.".

Draco scoots closers and pulls his friend into another tight hug. "Dumbledore will protect you," he whispers reassuringly. "It'll be fine."

"One normal year." Harry sighs. "Just one. That's all I bloody ask."

"I know," Draco says softly and presses a light kiss to Harry's forehead. "It's not fair."

Harry gulps. Did Draco just _kiss_ him? Before he can ask his friend about it, however, there's a knock at the door.

"Yes?" Draco calls out. "What is it?"

Slightly shuffling his feet, Vincent Crabbe walks into the room. "Sorry to disturb you, Draco," the large boy says, "but Greg just heard that the students are sleeping in the Great Hall tonight. The teachers are worried that Black might try to break into the castle, so they want to keep an eye on us all."

"The students?" Draco frowns. "As in, everyone?"

Vince nods. "We're all getting a sleeping bag."

Draco wrinkles up his nose in disgust. "How utterly undignified. Mother will be terribly unimpressed when she hears about this."

"Yeah, er ... I just thought you should know. I'll erm... I'll leave you two to it, then."

"Thanks, Vince."

The burly Slytherin nods and quickly exits the room.

"Sirius Black," Harry says, as another shiver runs up and down his spine. "Oh, bloody hell!"

"Shh." Draco gently pulls the shaking boy back into his arms. "We'll figure something out."

Harry rests his head against Draco's shoulder and closes his eyes. _Just one normal year_, he thinks sadly, _why is that too much to ask for?_

 

***

 

"Harry? Psshht, Harry…"

He opens his eyes, reaches for his glasses and then he recognises Draco in the sleeping bag next to his. "Huh?" he asks in confusion. "Wasn't there a Hufflepuff lying there earlier?"

"That's right." Draco grins. "Zacharias Smith, to be exact, but it wasn't difficult to persuade him to switch places with me."

"He... What? You didn't hurt him or anything, did you?"

"Now, would I do that, Potter?" Draco puts on his best innocent face, but when Harry doesn't look terribly convinced, he goes on to explain, "The universal currency of chocolate, Harry; it can buy you pretty much anything, it seems. So here I am."

"Yeah." Harry grins and grabs Draco's hand. "You are. Thanks."

"Don't worry about it." He grins back, suddenly looking a little flushed. "And now shush, before someone notices us."

Harry nods. He takes off his glasses again and still holding Draco's hand, he soon drifts back to sleep.

 

***

 

The following morning, when Harry wakes up, feeling surprisingly refreshed, Draco is already gone; he probably left before the two of them could be seen together.

_Never mind_, Harry thinks, _I'll get to talk to him again tonight, anyway._

And then, even though he knows he has another difficult year ahead of him, Harry finds himself grinning happily.


	6. Clash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry confronts Draco about the Buckbeak incident and their first real fight ensues.

"You really are a selfish bastard, d'you know that, Malfoy?!"

Draco looks up, a baffled expression on his face. "Excuse me?"

"Buckbeak," Harry says, striding into the room. "You were going to let them kill him, weren't you? Just like that? You had no intention at all of setting them straight!"

Draco sneers. It's something he does quite often, but rarely at Harry. "Is that even relevant, Potter? Nothing happened in the end, did it? That wretched… creature wasn't there when it was supposed to have had its head chopped off, so no harm was done. I'll bet the oversized ruffian set it free, just as I expected he would."

Harry clenches his fists in anger. "That's not the bloody point and you know it!" He's yelling now. He hasn't yelled at Draco since first year and back then, it was never with this much venom.

"No. I don't, actually," he snarls. "Why don't you enlighten me?"

Harry shakes his head. "You're just so... selfish a-and shallow!"

"Is that right?" Draco retorts. "Then tell me, on the subject of selfishness, Harry, how come I never saw you at the hospital wing when my arm was hurt?"

"Oh, please." Harry rolls his eyes. "Spare me. You were clearly faking it."

"The pain was excruciating, if you must know. I was in agony for days." He sounds sincere when he says it.

"Well... er…. Well," Harry stammers. "Even so, it was your own fault. That's what you get for trying to show off. Bloody hell, what were you trying to prove anyway?"

"Maybe that I'm just as good as you?" he mutters bitterly.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Draco!"

Harry's anger rises and for some reason, he feels like he's on the verge of tears, too. All this has been a mistake, he decides, a big whopping mistake. He looks at Draco and wonders whether he even knows this boy. They were such good friends (weren't they?) and then Draco went and pulled a stunt like that, almost getting Hagrid sacked and Buckbeak killed. Surely, Draco knows that Hagrid is Harry's friend, too? So why would he do something like that?

"Never mind," Harry finally says. "Never bloody mind." He turns on his heel and stomps out of the room, leaving Draco staring after him and wondering what just happened.

They don't meet up again that school year, both of them stubbornly making a point of avoiding the other.

Harry sometimes wonders if maybe his friends are right about Draco, but at the same time, a niggling voice inside of him insists that even if they are, that still doesn't change the fact that he misses the boy so very, very much.


	7. Almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries to make amends at the Quidditch World Cup.

Harry walks into the large booth, thinking that this has to be his loneliest summer yet. Even the ones before Hogwarts were never quite as bad.

He's surprised when he spots Draco, Lucius and Narcissa. He wonders why the three of them have seats right next to the Weasleys. Maybe fate has a strange sense of humour? Whatever the reason, though, there's bound to be a lot of unpleasantness later; the Malfoys and the Weasleys never got along.

"I'm going to get some snacks," Draco announces to no one in particular and rises from his chair.

"All right, dear," the boy's mother says. Harry thinks she sounds posh. "Do be careful down there, though. There are a lot of peculiar people about today."

Draco smirks. "Of course, Mother." Without giving Harry as much as a sideways glance, he saunters off.

"I… I'm just... um... going to go to the bathroom before the game starts," Harry tells Arthur Weasley in a stammer. The man nods noncommittally, but looks somewhat puzzled all the same.

Harry calmly walks out of the booth and once outside, he breaks into a run. "Malfoy?" he yells, trying to catch up with his classmate. "Draco?"

The Slytherin stops dead in his tracks, whips around and asks with a sneer, "What do you want, Potter?"

"Er, I was wondering… Can we talk?" Harry doesn't bother to wait for an answer. He just grabs Draco by the wrist and practically drags him behind one of the tents. "Look, I..." Harry takes a deep, bracing breath, before he blurts out, "I miss you. And I wish we hadn't... fought like that... and I... I'm sorry things got this bad between us… again."

It's only a small part of what he wants to say, but he has no idea how he's supposed to phrase the rest of it. Truthfully, he's not even sure what the rest of it is, exactly. That he needs Draco? That he feels lost without him? That still wouldn't quite cover it, Harry decides. Besides, it's not like he's a girl or anything, is it? Boys don't say that sort of sentimental rubbish to other boys, do they, not even when it's sort of true?

Draco rakes a hand through his hair and takes a step closer. He opens his mouth, but he never gets the chance to speak.

The unmistakable voice of Lucius Malfoy breaks the silence instead. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Mister Potter," the man drawls. "Is this misguided miscreant bothering you, Draco?"

"No, Father. It's fine," the boy says quickly. "We were just talking."

"I see. Come along then, Draco. We wouldn't want to miss the start of the game, would we?" Lucius takes his son by the arm and throws Harry an icy glare. "I'll be watching you, Mister Potter."

Harry bites his lip. He silently promises himself that he'll talk to Draco later, make amends, sort this out.

But somehow, things don't quite work out that way.

What follows instead is an attack by Death Eaters. It leads to panic, chaos and a premature end to the match.

Harry returns to The Burrow with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knows Draco is safe—he saw the Malfoys Disapparate together—but he's still no nearer to having his closest friend back.

He supposes he'll give it another try when school starts again in two weeks.

_Two weeks._

To Harry, that feels like an eternity away.


	8. Things That Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourth year. First day back.

"Bloody hell," Ron grumbles. "I can't believe Viktor Krum's getting so chummy with Malfoy. I mean, that's Draco _sodding_ Malfoy, for Merlin's sake! You'd think that someone like Krum would have some higher standards, wouldn't you?"

Harry glances over at the Slytherin table. When he spots Draco, he sighs. The boy's chatting animatedly with the popular Bulgarian Quidditch player. The two of them look pretty smug, even, and Harry's stomach is in turmoil at the sight.

This simply isn't fair, he decides; Draco's supposed to be _his_ closest friend, not Viktor Krum's. (If only they weren't a Gryffindor and a Slytherin; if only Draco's father wasn't such a vile, cruel bastard of a man; if only...)

Ron gives Harry a small nudge. "She's looking at you again, mate."

"What?" Harry says, as he's snapped out of his reverie. "Who?"

"Cho Chang," Ron clarifies.

"Oh?" Harry whips his head around. The dark haired Ravenclaw gives him a dazzling smile. Feeling a little startled, almost enough to spill his drink, Harry smiles back. He supposes it's the polite thing to do.

He never notices how, at the other side of the room, someone is watching the exchange with an annoyed frown.

 

***

 

It's already close to midnight when Harry climbs the stairs to the Tower. He doesn't really expect Draco to be there tonight, waiting for him, but he heads up to the room anyway; just in case.

Harry takes a deep breath and reminds himself to not get his hopes up. After all, they haven't really settled their differences yet. Nothing was resolved two weeks ago. Nothing actually changed. Lucius Malfoy's ill-timed interruption made sure of that.

The door opens slowly, with a slight creak.

When Harry hesitantly enters the room, the first thing he sees is a beam of white light coming from a wand. Then he spots Draco. He's sitting on the floor by the window. (Their usual place; or at least, it used to be.)

"Potter," the boy says casually and gets up.

Harry thinks that he should probably play it cool now, too, and feign indifference as well, but he can't. He's too relieved, far too happy and above all, too much of a Gryffindor for those kinds of games. "Draco," he says with a wide smile, and hurries over to the other boy. "Hey. I wasn't sure you'd be here."

"I wasn't sure either, up until about ten minutes ago," Draco says, his blunt honesty surprising them both.

"What made up your mind?" Harry has to ask.

Draco shrugs. "The second part of last year wasn't much fun without you," he admits softly, "and I suppose we both overreacted a bit that night..."

"Even you, huh?" Harry enquires with a grin.

Draco scowls and opens his mouth to retort, to cut Harry down with some snide remark, but when he sees the mischievous look on the Gryffindor's face, he finds himself grinning back instead. "Yes, Potter, even me."

"So..." Harry takes a deep breath. "We're friends again?"

"If you want us to be," Draco says.

"Of course I want us to be, you prat." Harry chuckles and lets himself sink to the floor. "And stop calling me Potter."

Draco smiles and sits down next to him. "All right then, _Harry._"

Soon they're back on familiar ground, in their spot in their room, talking about the Durmstrang and the Beauxbatons visitors, the upcoming Tournament and anything else that springs to mind, and soon things have returned to the way they were before the argument.

Well, almost...

Tonight, Harry doesn't reach for Draco's hand. Not because he doesn't want to (he does, very much), but because suddenly, the idea of touching his friend is a little awkward. Especially when it occurs to Harry that Draco looks really pretty this year, and then he wonders why he's even thinking something like that. (What the hell is wrong with him? Did Fred and George spike the Pumpkin Juice or something?)

"Hey," a voice next to him says, as long, slim fingers reach up to ruffle his hair teasingly. "Are you even listening, Harry?"

"Oh. Sorry," Harry says, feeling very foolish, "I was miles away."

"Bored with me already, are you?" Draco asks, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

"No," Harry says quickly. "No, Draco. Of course not."

Draco smiles and continues talking, something about a summer holiday in France, while Harry wrings his hands nervously and tries to hide his unexpected blush.

Harry knows that something's changed, even if he hasn't quite figured out what it is yet. He only knows that he has to stop staring, before Draco notices and starts asking awkward questions or worse, gets angry all over again.

Harry bites his lip and wonders why his life always has to be so bloody complicated.


	9. Walking In My Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourth year. Four champions have been chosen.

Harry leans against the door and lets out a deep breath. He still can't believe what just happened, how rude everyone was (Even Cedric Diggory! Aren't Hufflepuffs supposed to be nice?) and the fact that they really expect him to compete. He's only fourteen, for crying out loud!

Clenching his fists in his robe pockets, Harry forces himself not to let his tears flow. His gut instinct tells him to run, flee, get the hell out of there, using any means possible. But it's not like he can actually do that, realistically speaking. After all, he's a Gryffindor, for one thing, and Harry Potter to boot, and heroes don't run like cowards when their turn has come.

He takes another deep, bracing breath and straightens his shoulders. He walks into the Great Hall, his head held high.

Ron strides up to meet him. Harry gives his friend a small smile, hoping to find some understanding or at least a couple of encouraging words.

Instead, he gets an icy glare.

"What the bloody hell did you have to go and do that for, Harry?" the boy bellows. "Don't you get enough attention, as it is? What in Circe's name were you even thinking? And behind all our backs as well. You could at least have let your best mate know what you were up to!"

Harry shakes his head sadly and silently tells himself once again that no, he will not be shedding any tears over this. "Ron," he mutters, "I didn't. I mean, I never..."

"Save it, Harry," Ron cuts him off. "Just sodding well shut up! I'm beginning to think that people like Snape may be right about you after all, that you're nothing but a sad, attention-starved little shit!"

Harry bites his lip. Over his shoulder, he can see his other Housemates. Most of them are looking at him in astonishment, while a few others are glaring accusingly, hatefully even.

Feeling dangerously close to breaking down, Harry turns on his heel and storms out of the room, not looking back and not caring where he goes, either, just as long as it's far away from there.

At the Slytherin table, Gregory Goyle puts a hand on the arm of the blond boy next to him, who's about to get up. "Wait," he says urgently. "Don't go straight after him, Draco. People will wonder."

Draco grits his teeth. He slowly counts to twenty and waits until most of the students have gone back to their usual chatter. He glances over at the Gryffindor table to see Ron Weasley get an earful from both Granger and the Weaselette. _Good,_ Draco thinks with a smirk. He quietly rises from his seat and saunters out of the room, Crabbe and Goyle in tow.

Once they're in the corridor, the three of them break into a run. Draco supposes that's not a terribly dignified thing to do, and his mother definitely wouldn't approve of him bolting through the building like an undisciplined toddler, but then this is an emergency and there is no time to waste.

"Where d'you reckon he went?" Vince asks, slightly out of breath.

"The lake, probably," Draco says. "With so many Gryffindors looking like they were about to rip him to shreds, I highly doubt he ran up to the Tower."

Outside, it turns out that Draco was right. In the distance, they spot Harry. He's sitting on the grass by the water, his face in his hands, his small body wracking with sobs.

"Bastards," Draco mumbles, shaking his head. "Stay here," he tells his two companions. They comply without question, as they always do, while Draco rushes to his friend's side.

"Harry," he says softly, hunching down next to him and laying a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, are you all right?"

Harry whips his head around. Through teary eyes, he sees Draco's concerned face. "No," he answers honestly, in a small voice. "No, not really."

Draco does the first and only thing that comes to mind. He throws his arms around his friend and pulls him close.

Harry settles into the embrace easily, resting his head against Draco's shoulder. When he starts to cry again, he's vaguely aware of soothing words being whispered into his ear and fingers gently stroking his hair.

The boys stay that way for quite some time, until Harry's tears finally stop.

"Sorry for being so... um, well," Harry says, as he pulls away, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Don't worry about it," Draco reassures him. He hands Harry a crisp, white handkerchief. It has the Slytherin crest embroidered on it. "Here."

"Thanks," he whispers and dries his eyes.

"Remember that detention in the forest?" Draco asks, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Harry nods.

"I still have your Gryffindor one," Draco says, smiling as he gestures towards the hankie. "So I suppose it was about time I gave you one of mine."

"You kept it?" Harry asks, genuinely surprised.

"That was the night we first became friends. Of course I kept it."

"Oh." Harry doesn't quite know what to say.

"Don't look so stunned," Draco says. "I do have a heart, you know."

"Yes," Harry whispers. "I know."

They sit in silence for a while. Then Harry takes Draco's hand. He feels a little odd about doing so. They haven't touched each other much this year, not like before, but now he reaches for Draco anyway, because he needs the reassurance, and he needs Draco too, probably more than he realised before.

"You know, Harry," Draco says softly, "for what it's worth, I didn't think it was you who put your name in that Goblet, not for one second."

Harry lets out a relieved sigh and is almost close to tears again. "Actually, Draco," he says, his voice breaking slightly, "that's worth a whole lot."

Draco squeezes the hand he's holding and smiles.

 

***

 

"Do you suppose Draco's figured it out yet?" Gregory Goyle asks his companion.

"Huh? Figured what out?"

He gestures towards the two boys by the lake. They're holding hands and seem to be chatting amicably. "The way he feels about Potter," Greg clarifies.

Vince frowns in confusion. "What are you on about, mate?"

"Okay." He lets out a small laugh. "Let me put it this way: have the two of us ever held hands or embraced each other like Draco and Potter did earlier on?"

Vince screws up his face in disgust. "I should bloody well hope not, Greg!"

"Well, there you go, then."

"Oh." Vince's eyes widen in realisation. "You think Draco..."

"Fancies Potter? Hell, yes. And vice versa, too, I expect. You've seen the way they keep looking at each other, right?"

"Um, no, not really," Vince admits. He glances over at the lake again. "You know, Draco's old man would have kittens if he ever found out."

"Definitely. So I suppose it's up to us to help them keep their secret, isn't it?"

Vince nods slowly. "Good thing we were sorted into Slytherin," he mutters.

"Look," Greg says. "Here they come."

"Vince, Greg," Draco announces when he and Harry are standing in front of his friends. "We've decided that Potter's not going back to Gryffindor Tower tonight."

"Wha—" Vince begins, but Draco cuts him off.

"You know that cloak I told you about, right? Well, we'll be sneaking Harry down to the dungeons and he's going to sleep in my bed."

"With you?" Vince blurts out.

"No, actually, I was thinking of joining Bulstrode for the night." Draco rolls his eyes. "Obviously with me, you nincompoop! So it's up to you two to take turns keeping an eye on my bed, all right? See to it that no one opens the curtains?"

"Sure," Greg says. "We can manage that."

"Excellent."

 

***

 

It's an hour later when, dressed in a pair of Draco's pyjamas (they're green and silk, neither of which is much of a surprise), Harry climbs into bed next to his friend.

It feels a little strange, kind of awkward, at first, but then Draco holds out his arms, Harry scoots closer and Harry realises that this is fine, that this is just them, the way they've always been together, ever since they first became friends.

Of course, that strange fluttering feeling in his stomach wasn't there in the very beginning, and back then, he didn't have this odd urge to kiss Draco, either, but truly, Harry decides, now isn't the time to be thinking about such things. Come tomorrow, he'll have a Tournament to prepare for. He'll sort out his changing feelings for his best friend after that. (Maybe.)

"Goodnight, Harry," Draco whispers and blows out the candle.

"Night," Harry whispers back.

It doesn't take long before they've both drifted off to sleep.

Snuggled up with Draco, comfortably resting his head against the boy's chest, for the first night that school year, Harry isn't plagued by terrifying dreams.


	10. The Clear Light of Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning brings some clarity and a lot of questions.

Slowly waking from slumber, Harry's first conscious thought is that he feels warm and comfortable. It doesn't take him long to figure out why. Memories of last night come flooding back and he opens his eyes to see Draco lying next to him.

Well, in a fashion...

A more accurate description would be that the two of them are practically wrapped around each other, and Harry supposes he should find it a little strange, if not a bit awkward, to wake up in the arms of another boy (his head on that boy's chest, one of that boy's hands clasping one of his own), but he doesn't, not in the slightest. After all, this is Draco, who's not like any other boy, who isn't like anybody else, full stop.

Harry sighs contentedly and without even realising it, he snuggles a little closer.

At about the same time, grey eyes flutter open. "Well, good morning," Draco says with a grin. When he, too, notices their proximity, he lets out a small chuckle. "And isn't this cosy?"

Harry blushes, because he feels like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't have. "Um, yeah."

"What's wrong?" Draco asks, noticing his friend's discomfort.

"Nothing," Harry manages in a small voice. "I'm fine."

Draco isn't convinced. "You know you can tell me anything, right, Harry?" he whispers, scooting even closer. He slowly runs a hand along Harry's jawline and when their eyes meet and their gazes lock, Harry gets that fluttering feeling in his stomach again, and then, all of a sudden, he has trouble remembering how to breathe. His heart hammers in his chest and all he can think is that he really _wantsneedswants_ to get closer to Draco, as close as he possibly can.

He glances down at Draco's lips. Even without his glasses, he can tell that they look pink and pretty and inviting and then he thinks, this is it, he's going to do it, he's going to kiss his best friend, like he's been wanting to do since forever. (Or at least, it feels like forever to him now.)

The world is moving in slow motion. Or has it stopped entirely? It's hard to be sure at this point.

Harry's vaguely aware of a thumb caressing his left cheek, slowly, softly, a feather light touch that's barely even there. _Does Draco want this too,_ Harry wonders? Is it possible that this attraction (or whatever it is) is mutual? And what exactly are they doing anyway?

_Well,_ Harry decides, _only one way to find out._ He swallows hard, gathers his courage, leans in, and then...

A brief rustling of curtains and a discreet cough. The moment has passed and the spell is broken.

Harry suppresses a fierce urge to groan and an even stronger desire to hex Goyle into next week, because his timing is just brilliant, isn't it? _Thanks a bloody bunch!_

"Um, sorry," Greg says, sounding genuinely apologetic, "but I thought you might want to know that the coast is clear. They've all gone up to breakfast."

"Right," Draco says. Harry thinks he hears something resembling disappointment in his voice, but that might just be wishful thinking. "Thanks, Greg."

Goyle just nods and shuts the curtains again.

"All right," Draco says. "Time to get you back to Gryffindor, I guess."

"I'd rather stay here with you," Harry blurts out.

Draco grins. He ruffles Harry's hair. "I wouldn't say no to that, but we have to be careful, remember?"

Harry nods slowly. "Yeah, I know."

"Would you like to freshen up here or at the Tower?"

"Back at Gryffindor would be safest, I suppose."

Draco nods and gets out of bed. "Right. Come on, then."

 

***

 

When Harry climbs the steps to the Gryffindor section, his Invisibility Cloak wrapped tightly around him, all he can think about is Draco and what almost happened down in the dungeons.

It would have actually happened, right, if Goyle hadn't shown up and interrupted them?

In all honesty, Harry's no longer as certain about that now as he was ten minutes ago, but either way, he should probably tell Draco how he feels, even though the prospect of doing so is more than a little daunting.

Actually, the more he considers that option, the more it terrifies him, because who knows how his friend will react? What if Draco doesn't feel the same way? Or worse, what if he's completely repulsed by the idea or disgusted at Harry for even thinking about him in such a manner? What if Harry's confession ends up ruining their friendship for good? Harry can't imagine life without Draco; losing him simply doesn't bear thinking about.

And then there's that other matter as well...

All things considered, Harry supposes it's normal enough to have your first crush at fourteen (he has seen the way Ron looks at Hermione, for one thing), but shouldn't he be feeling this way about a girl instead of a boy? Even if it's a sweet, funny, smart and gorgeous boy who seems completely devoted to him already and—

Harry sighs. Deluding oneself isn't the Gryffindor way, so he decides he might as well face the facts, never mind whether they're normal.

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, prefers boys. And what's worse, so much worse, is that he prefers Draco Malfoy, who was sorted into the wrong House, has the wrong kind of father and supports the wrong kind of politics in public. (And wouldn't Uncle Vernon be appalled to discover that his nephew is an even bigger freak than he thought?)

Harry shakes his head sadly. A secret friendship is one thing, but assuming Draco feels the same way (which is far from certain at this point), keeping an actual relationship hidden from everyone; how would they even go about doing that?

If only he could talk to Hermione about all this…


	11. Everything You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of the Yule Ball.

Harry lets out a deep sigh and fights back the urge to scratch his right wrist again. His dress robes are dead uncomfortable. Not to mention that he feels just about as ridiculous as Ron looks at the moment, sitting here at the edge of the dance floor, watching Draco waltz with Pansy Parkinson, the two of them looking like they're having the time of their lives. Something about all this just isn't _right_.

Of course, Harry knows all too well that Draco doesn't fancy Pansy (or vice versa) and that the two of them are only here together because Zabini was too much of a wuss to ask Parkinson to the Ball, which of course, makes Blaise the perfect Ron to Pansy's Hermione and Harry thinks that, all things considered, being a teenager is dreadfully complicated, and while he's on the subject, he really wishes he could stop staring at Draco too, because sooner or later, someone's bound to notice. (Knowing Harry's luck, it'll probably be Snape.)

"Disgusting, isn't it?" Ron remarks. He's sitting next to Harry and doesn't look particularly happy either. "Malfoy's having loads more fun than we are and of course, the poncy git has to go and rub our noses in it as well, doesn't he? One of these days, Harry, one of these days..."

"Parkinson's dress is really daft-looking, though," Harry says. He knows it's not very nice of him to bash the girl, but he just can't help himself. Besides, he really doesn't like Ron slagging off Draco (who's just dancing and isn't really gloating or showing off; well, not _much,_ anyway.), but it isn't as if Harry could actually ask Ron to stop. That would be strange, and sort of suspicious to boot. All Harry can do is hope that Pansy's frilly pink disaster will be enough of a distraction. "Hermione looks much prettier tonight than Parkinson," he adds for good measure.

He soon realises, though, that this wasn't exactly the smartest thing to say. Not before long, Ron's off on a tangent. "Can you believe she came here with Krum?" he says bitterly. "You know, I sure liked that bloody Bulgarian a lot more before I'd actually met the bugger. First, he's all chummy with Malfoy, now he's stolen Hermione right from under my nose. What's next?"

"Yeah," Harry says. He doesn't think it wise to point out to Ron that Hermione never belonged to him in the first place and so, technically, Krum couldn't have stolen her from him either.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry notices Draco leave. All by himself, the Slytherin exits through the door leading to the gardens.

"I'm... um... I'm just popping out for some fresh air, all right?" Harry tells Ron.

"Sure, mate. See you later. I'm going to stay right here and keep an eye on Hermione, make sure that Bulgarian bastard doesn't do anything he shouldn't. If he as much as lays a finger on her, Harry, I swear…"

Harry nods. "Good idea, Ron," he says and then, as fast as he can without drawing too much attention to himself, he heads outside, in search of Draco.

He doesn't have to look very hard.

Draco's sitting on a bench. He grins widely when he catches sight of Harry. "Everything all right?" he asks his approaching friend. "I must say you didn't look too happy back there."

"Yeah. I'm fine. It's just..." Harry takes a deep breath and plops himself down next to Draco. "Ron kept going on and on about Hermione and Krum, and then that whole awkward business with the Patil Twins earlier..." He shakes his head and chuckles, finding the situation kind of funny in hindsight. "Let's just say that asking those two to the Ball probably wasn't the best idea Ron and I ever had."

"Oh, don't you like those girls?" Draco asks, sounding slightly surprised. "Why? They seem nice enough. Not that I've spoken to them much, but…"

"I don't like girls at all," Harry blurts out. "Um, what I mean is..." _Oh bugger_, he thinks and blushes scarlet. Why did he allow himself to be caught off-guard like that? And it's not as if Draco even tried to find out or insinuated anything. (Brilliant.)

"You like boys, then?" There's not a hint of shock or mockery in Draco's voice, though Harry is a little taken aback by the directness of the question.

"Um, yeah," comes the careful response. "I think I might."

"Don't worry about it too much," Draco says reassuringly. "Just do what feels right."

Harry smiles. _So far, so good,_ he thinks. At least Draco's not running for the hills, disgusted at the thought of his best friend preferring boys. Harry wonders whether revealing the second, more difficult, part of his secret would go down just as well.

"So," Draco says, "have you figured out the thing with the egg yet?"

Harry frowns at the abrupt change in subject, but he answers the question anyway. "Yeah. We have to dive into the lake and rescue the person who's the most important to us here."

Draco blinks. "_What?_ A rescue mission in a freezing lake? Have they all gone insane? That's bloody outrageous!"

"Yeah." Harry chuckles. "Ron wasn't too happy when I told him about it either."

Draco frowns. "So, Weasley's your favourite person in the whole of Hogwarts, is he? Lucky him."

The remark is meant to sound light-hearted, a bit of a joke, but its underlying bitterness isn't lost on Harry. "No," he says quickly. "No. He's not."

"Sorry?" Draco frowns in confusion.

Harry takes a deep breath. "Normally, Draco, I'd have to rescue you, but I asked Dobby to use a special kind of Disillusionment Charm or Distraction Charm or whatever it was, so no one would find out about our friendship. I mean... if it was you down there and it got out that we... I mean... people would start asking questions, and your father… There was no way on earth... I don't even want to imagine..." He trails off, nervously wringing his hands.

Draco stares at his friend open mouthed. "I'm the one who's the most important to you in this whole school?" he asks, looking gobsmacked and just a little touched.

"You're the most important person in my _life_, Draco," Harry blurts out and then, realising the implication of what he just confessed, he feels a strong urge to clamp a hand over his mouth. First "I don't like girls" and now _this_. Draco's no fool, Harry knows that much, so he must have figured it out by now, or at the very least, he has to suspect something.

Harry bites his lip. Afraid to meet his friend's eyes, he looks down at his lap. He sits, waits, and plucks an imaginary thread from his robes. He braces himself for an angry outburst, a flood of accusations, or whatever other unpleasantness that's bound to befall him any moment now.

Harry's surprised when the boy next to him lets out a deep sigh instead. It's followed by something that sounds a lot like, "Oh, _Harry_."

Harry looks up in surprise. He can't read the expression on Draco's face, but those pretty grey eyes are big, shiny and full of wonder. Harry opens his mouth to say something (anything) and then, unexpectedly, their gazes lock and things are exactly like they were that morning in the dungeons. Except, there's no one around to disturb them this time. It's just the two of them here now.

Harry subconsciously licks his lips. He doesn't know why they feel so dry all of a sudden. They just do, and so does his throat. He wonders what Draco's thinking and why his best friend is looking at him like that, eyes wide, his gaze drifting down to Harry's lips and... _Merlin, does this mean...?_

It's not long before Harry gets his answer.

Draco lifts up a hand (It seems to be trembling slightly) and rests it on Harry's left cheek.

They look into each other's eyes again and the world shifts.

For the longest of moments, Harry's torn between speaking (to rid himself of that odd, awkward feeling in his stomach) and keeping quiet (so as not to end whatever this is that has barely begun).

He has no experience at all with this kind of thing, not a single clue of what to expect, much less do now, but nevertheless, he can tell that he's on the edge of something huge, on the threshold of something that's both familiar and new. As well as a little scary, actually, when he stops to think about it.

But then he tells himself that this is just Draco, so whatever happens now, it couldn't possibly be anything bad, could it? After all, Draco cares about him a great deal, doesn't he?

Harry, for his part, knows that he loves Draco with all his heart, but it's not something he can tell him yet. It's too terrifying, he wouldn't be able to find the words, and maybe the two of them are still a little young for confessions of that magnitude as well.

"Harry," Draco whispers huskily. It almost sounds like he's saying that name for the very first time. Then he nods to himself and inches his face closer to Harry's.

In that very moment, all rational thought flees Harry's mind. His heart jumps up into his throat and his pulse starts racing, because the next thing Harry knows, the next thing he's aware of, is that Draco's kissing him. Finally kissing him. _Thank Merlin!_

Harry has nothing to go on except his own feelings and the way he supposes these things are done, but something at the back of his mind tells him that he has to act now, react quickly, before Draco starts to doubt himself and does something terribly daft and completely unnecessary like apologise. (Because on some occasions, the Slytherin is really much more of a Gryffindor than he realises, even if that's not something Harry would ever dare to say to Draco's face.)

So Harry throws his arms around his best friend and eagerly kisses him back, dissolving any remaining uncertainty.

As they kiss properly for the first time, Harry and Draco are both a little shy and the whole thing is slightly awkward. Noses bump and it soon turns out that glasses can be one hell of a nuisance at a time like this, but still, Harry's quite convinced that kissing Draco is the most amazing feeling ever. The boy's lips are soft and warm and sweet, and Harry has waited so terribly long. He's been wanting to do this for absolutely ages.

After a few minutes, the boys break apart to catch their breaths and when Harry sees Draco looking at him, a little flushed and grinning widely, he realises something he really should have picked up on a whole lot sooner. This crush, attraction, whatever-it-is has been mutual for quite a while now.

"So does this makes us boyfriends?" Harry asks, taking Draco's hand and interlacing their fingers. "I mean, that's the way to say it for two boys as well, isn't it?"

Draco chuckles. "I honestly have no idea what to call it. I've never given the matter any thought. Whatever the term is, though, I'd like very much to be yours, yes."

"Mine," Harry repeats and grins. "My Draco."

Draco shakes his head in amusement. "Don't be such a girl, Potter. That kind of defies the whole point here," he says with a wicked chuckle and then he leans in to kiss Harry again.


	12. After The Maze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the third Triwizard Task.

Draco swallows hard and tightly grips the edge of the bench with both hands.

They've been sitting here, waiting, for over five hours.

The two remaining champions have yet to return from the magical maze and not to put too fine a point on it, this whole thing is hell on Draco's nerves.

As if the first two Tasks weren't already painful enough to watch...

He takes a deep, steadying breath and reminds himself to calm down, right this instant, before anyone notices his anxiety. It simply wouldn't do for Lucius Malfoy's son to be caught worrying about the fate of either Harry Potter or a Hufflepuff.

Draco hears the roar of the crowd before he spots the emerging figure. Is that Harry down there? Draco's heart is beating a mile a minute as he squints to get a better look. Yes, he realises, it's definitely Harry—thank Merlin, but... hold on... is he carrying Diggory? Why is he carrying Diggory? And why does he look so distraught? And why the bloody hell is everyone still cheering? Can't those cretins tell that something here is terribly wrong?

As if on cue, Fleur Delacour lets out a chilling scream.

Instantly, cheers and jeers turn into shrieks and hysterics.

Draco leaps up instinctively.

"No," Greg warns him. "Stay here. Potter's fine. As far as I can tell, he looks upset, but he doesn't seem injured." The boy lays a supportive hand on Draco's arm. "You're meeting him later tonight, yeah?"

Draco nods. Reluctantly, he sinks back into his seat. He knows his friend is right, of course, but that doesn't make him feel any less sad, frustrated or guilty at the moment.

In the distance, he can see Harry crying; Harry, who, never in a million years, would be seen sobbing that way in public. So whatever happened in the maze, it must have been something terrible.

"Bloody hell," Greg remarks, turning pale. "The Hufflepuff's dead."

Draco's jaw drops. "What did you just say?" His gaze shifts to the motionless body on the ground and his heart clenches.

He has never felt so powerless in his entire life.

***

The hour is late when, after a lengthy search, Draco finally finds Harry on the Trophy Room floor, a crying, inconsolable mess.

Draco rushes to his boyfriend's side and pulls him into his arms.

With Vince and Greg standing watch at the other side of the door, he learns the horrible truth of what happened in Little Hangleton: Voldemort's return, Cedric's death and finally, his own father's involvement in it all.

Draco shudders. He doesn't know what to say, but then there is nothing he could say either. Not even the wisest of words could ever put any of this right.

He used to be so proud of his heritage, of his name and its status in the wizarding world. Right at this very moment, though, he would like nothing better than to desecrate his ancestors' graves and smash the Malfoy family portraits one by one, because seeing Harry like this, it just about breaks his heart.

"Would you like to sleep in my bed tonight?" he asks softly, when Harry has run out of tears, at least for the time being.

"Yes," comes the broken, whispered response. "I... I have my cloak in my bag."

"All right. Let's go..."

That night, they sleep in each other's arms again. Or rather, Harry sleeps, eventually, after plenty of comforting words and almost as many gentle kisses, and once exhaustion has finally got the upper hand.

Draco, for his part, lies awake for most of the night, contemplating some of the choices he made quite a while ago, both with his heart and his mind. He knows a time will come, and he suspects it won't be long now, when he'll have to go public with them, too, and show the world whose side he's really on.

He's no Gryffindor and he's nobody's hero, but he'd give his everything for the boy in his arms.

Tomorrow, he'll talk to Severus Snape.

Draco can only hope that his assumptions about the man's true allegiance are correct.


	13. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourth Year. Draco goes to talk to Severus.

Severus Snape gives his godson a sceptical look. He doesn't understand why the boy came to see him today or why he appears so eager to discuss politics all of a sudden. He has never shown much interest in such matters before, aside from that irritating habit of parroting whatever Lucius preaches.

Severus wonders whether he should suspect Lucius' hand in this, too; perhaps this whole thing is really some underhanded way of having his son test his old associate's loyalty.

"Tell me, Draco," the man speaks after some serious consideration. "Why did you choose me to have this particular conversation with? Wouldn't one of your peers have been more suitable for this type of discussion?"

"No," Draco answers simply. "In Slytherin, one can never be entirely sure where people's loyalties lie. This isn't the sort of thing I'd fancy getting back to my father."

"I see. Well, in that case," Snape challenges, "what makes you so sure, boy, that your father won't be hearing about it from me?"

"Dumbledore wouldn't let a Death Eater on his staff, Sir," Draco says evenly, "and no one would be able to sneak that kind of thing past him either, not even you. Um, no offence, Sir."

"None taken, I'm sure." Snape smirks. "And so that brings us back to my earlier question: _Why,_ Draco?"

Severus takes a deep breath and decides to play it on the safe side. Legilimency is a skill he's well versed at and even though he normally wouldn't use it on students without their prior knowledge and permission, as far as he's concerned, this specific case definitely warrants an exception. After all, there's quite a lot at stake here.

Severus concentrates. In his mind, he catches a glimpse of deep-green eyes gazing adoringly at his godson from behind cheap, dull glasses, and of fingers with bitten nails gently clutching Draco's pale hand. Then Severus feels Draco's mind shutting him out again. Clearly, Lucius taught his son well.

"Does this have anything to do with Mister Potter?" Snape asks flatly. Draco obviously noticed that his thoughts were being invaded, so there's no longer any need to beat around the bush.

Draco swallows hard. He considers his options, knowing all too well that his godfather is probably the only adult he could trust with this. Apart from Dumbledore himself, but talking to the headmaster seems just a little too daunting at this point. "Yes," Draco finally says as he looks down at his hands, studying his cuticles. "Harry is... I mean... we're..."

Snipe's eyes widen in shock as another sequence of images flashes through his head: two young boys huddled close together, talking by the lake, then those same boys, a few years later, sleeping side by side in the Great Hall, holding hands, the night Black had been sighted.

"I think I understand now," he says slowly, trying to process what he just learned. He's not particularly shocked or even all that surprised that Draco fancies boys. That sort of thing is getting quite common these days, even in the wizarding world. But he has to wonder if there weren't any nice boys in Slytherin or Ravenclaw or just a nice boy who happened to be anyone but Harry Potter. Why does it have to be Harry Potter, of all people? But then the Malfoy brat always enjoyed a bit of a challenge, didn't he? And the more Severus thinks about it, the more he realises that for his godson, there was probably no bigger challenge imaginable than The Boy Who Lived.

"So what can I do for you, Draco?" Snape finally asks. "Why did you really come and see me?"

"Protection," he blurts out. "Should I ever need it, if this gets out or Father insists I … would the school be able to…?"

Severus nods slowly, somewhat relieved that Draco at least seems to understand the possible consequences of his choice. "Yes, the headmaster and myself would be only too happy to arrange sanctuary for you, should that ever prove necessary."

"Thank you, Sir," Draco says, feeling as though a huge weight has been lifted from his slender shoulders.

"But do be careful, Draco," Severus warns. "This wouldn't bode well with some of your fellow Housemates..."

"I know, Sir," he says softly, and adds as an afterthought, mostly to himself, "but I'm not my father, and I can't… I don't support the Dark Lord, Sir. "

A few moments later, Severus neither hears the rustle of heavy fabric, nor does he sense how a second person quickly leaves the room, right after his godson.

  
***

  


Outside in the corridor, Harry pulls down part of his cloak to reveal his face. "All right?" he asks his boyfriend, who's trembling slightly and looking even more pale than usual.

"I will be in a minute," Draco says softly. He feels a little lightheaded and nauseous, but mainly relieved. "Thank Merlin that we were right about Severus," he whispers, "otherwise..."

"Not the kind of thing you should be thinking about, Draco," Harry points out with a small smile. "And you know, I'm really proud of you."

"Oh good." Draco grins, feeling some of his usual spark returning. "After all, impressing you is what I do it all for, Potter."

"Part," Harry says, smiling. He pulls his cloak over both of them, and they move to the bench, where they remain sitting in silence, cuddled very close together, hands entwined, until Draco's breathing has evened out again and they're both ready to return to their respective Common Rooms.


	14. Calm Inside The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fifth Year. Getting closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter includes sexual experimentation between two consenting fifteen-year-old boys. If that sort of thing bothers you, please don't read it.

Sighing happily, Harry snuggles closer to the warm body beside him.

He's had dreams like this before. They started last summer. The dirty sheets afterwards didn't make aunt Petunia very happy, and in the second week of July, Harry started doing his own laundry, fed up with the screaming and the endless barrage of insults.

As if darling _Duddikins_ doesn't get any wet dreams…

But then again, who knows? Maybe he really doesn't. After all, he's not exactly the most advanced human being Harry has ever met.

Whatever the case, though, the Dursleys really aren't what Harry wishes to think about right now.

Where was he again? Ah yes. Dreams. Amazing, exciting, incredible _dreams_.

He supposes that's what you get for having such a gorgeous boyfriend.

These days, Harry finds it almost impossible to believe that he once thought of Draco as _pointy_, of all things. He must have been totally blind, as well as incredibly young and embarrassingly clueless.

It hasn't escaped Harry's attention that others have also begun to notice how handsome Draco is. Many of the girls have taken to staring at him on a regular basis, as have some of the boys. And while Harry is well aware that Draco has to be flattered by all that attention, he is also confident that his boyfriend is far too loyal to ever cheat on him.

Not that they've made each other any promises as such (not yet), but as far as Harry's concerned, they don't really need to. It's not like there has ever been anyone else for either of them.

Harry can't even imagine ever wanting anyone else. It has always been Draco, right from the very start.

He moves closer, and slowly starts to rub himself against his bed partner, wondering why this dream seems so much more lucid than any of the previous ones did.

Not that he's complaining...

"Harry," a panicked voice whispers urgently. "What the hell are you doing?"

Harry's eyes snap open in shock. "Oh shit," he says the very moment he realises where he is and with whom and... _Sweet Merlin, that was no dream at all!_

This year, Draco's a Prefect. Which means he has his own room down in the dungeons, where Harry spent the night, after another painful incident involving that damnable Umbridge woman.

The boys talked, kissed and cuddled well into the small hours, until they fell asleep in each other's arms, and now…

"S-Sorry," Harry stammers, feeling more embarrassed than he has ever felt in his life. "I thought… I thought I was still dreaming."

Briefly, Draco's eyes widen in surprise, but then he smiles mischievously. "Oh? Dream about me, do you?" he asks, something in his tone making Harry shiver. "Tell me, what do you dream?"

"Maybe it's better if I didn't… um… tell you," Harry answers shyly, and this is _horribly-terribly-incredibly_ embarrassing.

All they've ever done up until now is kiss and hug, and it has always been gentle and loving and careful.

In Harry's recent dreams, however, things have been a little different: a lot less chaste, with touching and kissing in more intimate places, too. Afterwards, Harry would wake up in sticky sheets, and sometimes, in the privacy of his bedroom, he'd touch himself, too, thinking about the dreams he had or imagining certain things he'd really like to do to his boyfriend, if only he had the nerve to suggest them or to just go ahead and try.

Harry wonders if it's the same for Draco, and if it would be all right to tell him about this, and damn, he realises that he's hard (again), and that's been happening more and more too lately and thinking about those dreams doesn't exactly help matters.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Draco whispers. He sounds worried now, all plans of teasing forgotten.

"Nothing," Harry says brokenly. He rolls onto his stomach to try to conceal the obvious. "I've… um… just got this little problem, um…"

"You're aroused, is that what you're trying to tell me?" Draco asks with a bluntness that's a lot more Gryffindor than Slytherin.

"Yes," Harry admits in a whisper, his cheeks blazing. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Draco asks with a smile. "We're teenage boys. It's perfectly normal, you know, especially if you happen to wake up with someone who's practically ravishing you in your sleep."

"Um, I…" Harry blinks, slowly catching on. "What did you just say? You mean you're...?"

Draco nods slowly. "Would you like to see?"

Harry gulps. "See what?"

Draco rolls his eyes. "The fluffy ducklings by the lake, Potter. Honestly! What do you suppose I'm talking about here?"

"Sorry." Harry chuckles awkwardly. "Um, yeah, I… I'd like to… um... see."

"All right." Draco pushes the covers aside, and pulls his pyjama bottoms down slightly. The first thought to enter Harry's mind is that Draco's cock doesn't look very different from his own. Oh, and the boy definitely wasn't lying about being aroused either.

"Well?" Draco whispers, feeling extremely self-conscious all of a sudden, not knowing what to make of Harry's silence.

"Can I…" Harry takes a deep breath. "Can I touch it?" he asks and quickly turns his head away, blushing furiously, fervently hoping he hasn't gone too far.

"Sure," Draco whispers. "If you'd like."

Harry's heart hammers in his chest. Trembling fingers reach out and feel… No, Draco's isn't very different from his own at all. Harry gently runs his fingers up and down the shaft, causing Draco to let out a soft moan.

Startled, Harry quickly pulls his hand back. "Sorry, I... I wasn't thinking."

"Please, don't apologise," Draco says, something husky to his voice. "That felt really good."

Harry nervously clears his throat, before he asks softly, "Would you…. um… Would you like me to go on?"

"Yes," Draco whispers. "Very much."

"All right." Carefully, Harry resumes his stroking, and biting his lip, he finally finds the courage to wrap his fingers around the part of Draco that he's been secretly curious about for a while now.

The longer Harry continues, the more ragged the other boy's breathing becomes. "I've dreamed of you doing this, Harry," Draco confesses with a moan. "The reality is so, so much better, though. Oh… wow..."

"You have?" Harry asks, picking up his pace. "You've dreamed about me, too?"

"Hell, yes." Draco groans. "You know," he adds urgently, "if you keep that up, if you don't stop, I won't be able to… I'm going to… It'll be all over your hand... Guh, _Harry_…"

"Go ahead," Harry whispers. "Let go."

It's the only encouragement Draco needs. One more hard pull is all it takes, and then with a sharp intake of breath, he's climaxing, throwing his head back and groaning Harry's name.

Harry gulps at the sight. He has never seen anything more mesmerising or erotic in his entire life.

Not before long, Draco opens his eyes again. He lifts up a hand and caresses Harry's face. "Wow," he says softly, his eyes shining brightly and his face flushed. "That was bloody fantastic." He sits up and kisses Harry on the lips. "Let me do the same for you?"

Harry's first reaction is to frown. He's not completely sure that he's ready for this yet, but his throbbing, almost painful erection soon makes up his mind for him. "Yes," he whispers. "Please."

Carefully, Draco releases Harry's cock from the confinement of the green pyjamas. He smiles at his boyfriend, before he leans down and plants the softest of kisses on the hard length, sending a delightful shiver down Harry's spine.

Then Draco leans back up again and kisses Harry on the mouth, slowly and gently like they're used to, and carefully, his fingers curl around the boy's cock. He starts moving his hand up and down and down and up, stroking and pulling, slowly at first and then faster, applying more pressure. He's a little surprised (though by no means in a bad way) when, at Harry's initiative, the kissing grows more heated, more urgent, and then Harry wraps his arms around Draco, clinging to him almost possessively.

The next thing Draco's aware of is a loud groan, followed by warm liquid spurting over his right hand. Then Harry sinks back into the pillows, looking happy, relaxed and just a little shy again.

After successfully casting a cleaning spell on them both, Draco lies back down. Harry snuggles up to him and whispers, his voice thick with emotion, "I love you, Draco. I love you so bloody much."

Draco smiles and pulls Harry closer, kissing the boy's cheek. "I love you, too," he whispers back. "You're my whole world, Harry Potter."

The words finally spoken, both boys fall into contented silence.

On many levels, Harry's fifth year has been absolute hell thus far, and it really doesn't look like it'll get any better any time soon, but at least he has Draco.

Harry's quite sure that without his boyfriend, he would have lost his mind a long time ago.


	15. Just So We Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fifth year. Confessions and discoveries.

"I can't keep doing this, Draco," she tells him, letting out a deep sigh. "You know I can't stomach most of Potter's little troop, but this whole thing is rapidly getting out of hand. That woman, she's… she's…" Pansy's not quite sure what would be the most fitting description for Umbridge, so in the end she settles for: "a monster."

Draco frowns. He's more relieved than ever to have declined the questionable honour of joining the Inquisitorial Squad, although that decision has already earned him a lot of odd looks from some of his fellow Slytherins.

Not that any of them would ever dare to say a word about it to his face, of course, and even those who do speculate (in hushed tones and behind closed doors, so that Draco wouldn't hear) assume there's some kind of ulterior motive involved, one they're probably better off not knowing about.

After all, Malfoys never do anything on a whim or without very good reason.

Draco has cursed his family name a lot in recent years, but this is one of those rare instances where he doesn't. He knows full well that his name is probably the only thing keeping his peers from hassling him at the moment.

After all, provoking a Malfoy comes with a very high price. Unless you happen to be Harry Potter, that is.

Except...

Had the students been paying attention to more than merely the Umbridge issue and the insanity claims these past few months, they would probably have noticed that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy no longer taunt each other quite as much nowadays as they used to. And even when they do, it doesn't seem as though their hearts are really in it.

"Can't your mother do anything?" Pansy asks sadly. "This just isn't fair! And besides, what Potter's lot are up to, well, technically, there's nothing actually wrong with learning how to defend yourself, is there?"

Draco's eyes widen. He's had his suspicions for a while, but now everything falls into place. "Pansy," he begins carefully. "You don't in fact support Voldemort, do you?"

She flinches visibly at the Dark Lord's name, astonished that Draco has the nerve to say it out loud. "No." She lowers her voice, before she continues, "My mother and father aren't… I mean, they're spies, Draco. They told me over the summer."

She looks down at her hands, bites her lip nervously and then gazes back up at him, hoping she didn't just make some horrible mistake in judgment.

Draco swallows hard. "Thank Merlin, Pans," he says under his breath as he pulls the girl into his arms. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that," he adds in a whisper.

Despite herself, because she's usually much more together than that, Pansy breaks down in tears. "You're the first person I've told," she chokes out. "I was so scared… I was hoping to talk to Dumbledore when school started again, but of course I never got the chance, and then that _horrid_ woman..."

"Shhhh," Draco says soothingly. "You can always go and have a word with Severus."

"What?" She pulls away slightly and gives him a puzzled look. "Professor Snape?!"

"That's right. I won't be taking the Mark either, you see," he explains softly. "I confided in him, and he… He promised me sanctuary here at Hogwarts should I ever need it. I'm sure he'll do the same for you if you ask."

"So y-you're…" she stammers. "Oh my goodness. Wow."

"Yes," Draco remarks dryly. "Father will be gravely displeased."

Pansy then turns to Vince and Greg, and asks upfront, "What about you two?" It's the first time she addresses them since the subject was brought up.

Greg shrugs. "We've always been told to do whatever Draco tells us to," he answers simply.

"Yeah," Vince agrees. "Mum reckons that'll get me far."

"Oh." Pansy smiles. "Right." She releases her grip on her oldest and dearest friend, and says, "Thank you. It's a shame about Blaise, though."

"He supports Voldemort?" Draco asks with a frown.

"I honestly have no idea."

"Well, then don't go drawing any hasty conclusions, Pans…"

"Yeah. If a Malfoy can defect," Greg points out reasonably, "pretty much anyone can."

Draco moves to speak, but then the door flies open, cutting off whatever he intended to say.

A very upset looking Harry Potter bursts into the room, violently throwing his Invisibility Cloak to the floor. "Draco," he begins, but the moment he spots Pansy, he stops dead in his tracks. "Oh… shit!"

"Well. Well. Well." The girl crosses her arms and fixes Draco with a partly amused, partly accusing glance. "Something you need to tell me?"

Draco takes a deep breath. Looking straight at Harry, he holds out his hand and says, smiling nervously, "Come here."

Harry nods, walks over to the sofa and clutches the other boy's hand tightly. "Right," Draco continues in a calm voice, while Harry looks even more rattled than he did when he first came in. "Pansy, I take it you already know my boyfriend?"

The girl stares at them incredulously for a few moments, before she suddenly bursts out laughing.

"That wasn't a joke, you know," Draco informs her, clearly affronted.

"That's not why I'm laughing," she manages in between giggles. "It's just that… well, half the fifth-years are besotted with you, Draco, while the other half seems infatuated with Potter and the truth is that you're both gay… and in love with each other. It's a little... Um, yeah."

At that, Greg has to chuckle, too, because he never looked at things that way and the girl does have a point, and very soon, even Harry is grinning.

"Anyway." Pansy takes a deep breath, regaining her composure. She looks up at Harry and smiles. "I guess it's time you and I started afresh, isn't it? Since you and my supposed best friend, who's an exceptionally sneaky bastard, even for a Slytherin"—she playfully pinches Draco in the arm—"are apparently dating." She sticks out her hand. "So, Potter, friends?"

Harry nods and gives the girl a relieved smile in return. "I'd like that very much," he says, and he lets go of Draco's hand long enough to shake Pansy's.

"Right," Draco is the next to speak. "Now that we've got all that cleared up…"

"Oh no you don't, Malfoy," Pansy says sternly. "You're not pulling a 'by the way, I'm dating my supposed enemy, now how about them Cannons' on me. There are a couple of things I'd like to know."

Draco raises an amused eyebrow. "Such as, Miss Parkinson?" he asks in a mock-formal voice.

"How long has this been going on for?"

"Since the Yule Ball," Draco says, making Harry blush slightly at the memory of their first kiss.

"Ah. So that was where you suddenly disappeared to. I had to dance with Greg for the remainder of the night. Thanks a bloody bunch for that, by the way!"

"I am still here, you know," Goyle grumbles indignantly.

Pansy ignores him. "So you two somehow found yourself holding hands or what?" she asks Draco. "Or no, wait… you were fighting and suddenly it seemed like a better idea to start snogging instead? I never believed you hated him, you know, not for one minute."

"Good," Draco says with a smile. "Because I never did. Not really."

She frowns, getting the distinct impression that there's a lot more to the story than she could imagine.

"Remember that detention in first year with Hagrid?" Draco says. "When I tripped and got hurt?"

Pansy nods, while Harry has to bite back a grin; _tripped, indeed._

"Harry helped me," Draco explains, "and we've been friends ever since, though we had to keep it a secret because of…"

"Politics," Pansy finishes for him.

"Precisely."

"I understand," she says with a sigh. "Especially now, but still…"

"What?"

"I'm a little disappointed, I suppose," she admits, "that you didn't tell me. I would have kept quiet."

"We thought it would be safer not to let anyone know."

"None of my friends know yet," Harry offers.

Pansy raises her eyebrows. "Not even Granger?"

Harry slowly shakes his head.

"Well," she finally says, feeling a little more reassured in her best friend's trust in her, "I suppose I can understand your needing to be discreet. And there's a lot of hostility at the moment… Anyway, your secret's safe with me, don't worry."

"How about you?" Draco asks, referring to her own revelations. "Will you be okay?"

"Yes," she says confidently. "I think I will."

"Good."

Pansy gets up from the sofa. "I suppose I'd best give you boys some privacy. If you don't mind me saying so, though, Harry, you look awfully pale. Aren't you feeling well?"

"Um. Well…" Reluctantly, but feeling he must, he shows them the back of his left hand. There are words carved deeply into his flesh.

Draco gulps at the sight. "The old hag will pay for that!"

"Writing your mum, after all?" Pansy enquires.

"No. I'm going to tell Severus. He has to fix this."

"He doesn't ca—" Harry begins, but Draco cuts him off. "That bitch is physically abusing students and she's using illegal means to do it. He'll sort her out."

Harry frowns, more than a little startled by Draco's forceful outburst.

Noticing his boyfriend's discomfort, Draco adds in a more gentle tone, "Come here."

Harry nods. He sits down on the sofa and moves into Draco's arms.

Pansy smiles, but doesn't say a word. She thinks they look unexpectedly right for each other, and she has never seen Draco so devoted to anyone before. Truthfully, a few years ago, she would have been jealous of Potter, but she's long over the crush she once had on her best friend. Now she's just happy for him, and quite relieved… Harry Potter seems to bring out the best in Draco, who could have easily ended up like Lucius, but clearly didn't.

"Have you two eaten?" she asks.

They both shake their head.

"Greg and Vince, go get them some soup or something would you? Right… Take care, boys, and if you need me, I'll be in my dorm."

"Thanks, Pansy," Draco says.

"Yeah, thanks," Harry adds sheepishly, a little stunned at the girl's helpfulness.

She nods and heads for the door, followed closely by Vince and Greg.

Once the trio has exited the room, Harry lets out a relieved sigh. "That could have gone a lot worse." He grins.

"Oh, Pansy's wonderful," Draco states matter-of-factly.

"Is that right?" Harry asks with a frown.

"For a girl," Draco adds quickly. Then he whispers, "I've missed you," against Harry's cheek.

"Missed you too," Harry whispers back.

Not another word is spoken for a while, as they sit in silence, snuggled together, mulling over the day's events.

By the time Vince and Greg return with two steaming bowls of soup, Harry is already feeling a lot better.


	16. Stone By Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of a turbulent school year.

Sitting on the grass, his knees propped up to his chest, Harry looks out over the lake and sighs.

His fifth year at Hogwarts has almost come to an end. Tomorrow, they'll all go home for the summer holidays.

A lot has happened over the past few months, and many things have changed.

Umbridge vanished without a word or any of the proverbial horns and trumpets she had originally arrived with.

Aside from the two people involved in the incident, no one knows exactly what occurred on that memorable afternoon when a decidedly unimpressed and gravely displeased Professor Snape stalked over to the temporary headmistress' office.

To this day, no one has had the nerve to ask the Potions Master about it either, but whatever the sordid details may be, the woman returned to the Ministry soon after, and not one of the teachers has as much as mentioned her name since.

Not in public, at any rate.

A few weeks later, Harry and his friends were lured to the Department of Mysteries, only to walk straight into a trap. A confrontation with Voldemort and some of his followers ensued.

To Harry's relief, things ended well.

Mostly.

Despite her undeniable skill and not entirely misplaced arrogance, Sirius Black managed to defeat Bellatrix Lestrange. The outcome of their impromptu duel landed one of Voldemort's chief lieutenants behind the veil. A few other Death Eaters were overpowered as well, until finally, an outnumbered Dark Lord retreated from the scene, loudly vowing to all and sundry that he would definitely get Harry Potter next time.

Looking back, that afternoon was something of a breakthrough, and Harry would have been just as pleased with the outcome as his friends were, had it not been for that one significant complication…

Lucius Malfoy's arrest.

Harry knows both with his heart and his mind that he had no choice in the matter, none whatsoever. The man belonged behind bars, so that's where he ended up and where he still is now.

Obviously, Draco wasn't very happy when he found out. A huge argument was practically inevitable. Harsh words were spoken and it was worse, much worse than when Buckbeak was almost executed in third year.

Harry throws another pebble into the lake, willing himself not to cry.

He'll most likely have his godfather back very soon, because the authorities caught Pettigrew, too, and it didn't take long before the sneaky, rat-faced bastard broke down and confessed everything.

But because of Lucius' imprisonment, Harry lost Draco. Maybe for good this time, and that really isn't something he wants to think about.

"Harry?" a hesitant voice calls out behind him.

Harry turns his head around.

There stands Draco, shuffling his feet nervously and looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself. "Can we talk?"

"Um, sure," Harry says, his heart racing.

Draco sits down on the grass. "Look," he says and holds out his hand.

Hesitantly, Harry takes it. The careful way Draco talks can only be bad news. He's probably here to end the relationship officially, to inform Harry that this would never work. They're too different, and Draco's family is far more important to him than some silly teenage romance.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," Draco says, "and quite a bit of talking with Pansy, too."

_Here it comes._ Harry braces himself. Draco is his first love and he's never been dumped before, but he's seen it happen to others and he's seen this sort of thing on those terrible soap operas Aunt Petunia watches, too, and this is how it usually goes. They let you down gently, but they still let you down.

Harry takes a deep breath.

Then, Draco says carefully, "You really had no other option, did you?"

"What?" Harry asks, confused by the change in subject; things aren't going at all like he expected them to.

"And it was really… Father's own fault," Draco continues softly, "for being there at all, and for associating himself with _Him_ and _them_, and … I shouldn't have blamed you at all, but I was so angry, upset and frustrated, and I knew that Mother…" Uncertainly, he trails off.

Harry's eyes widen. No, this definitely isn't how he thought it would go. So does this mean…?

"So," Draco remarks after an awkward silence. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"Well… I… I… didn't mean to," Harry stammers. "Had there been some other way, I would've…"

"I know. I mean, I realise that now."

Harry looks into Draco's eyes and then he studies the boy's face carefully. He doesn't seem to have slept much either lately.

"Do you suppose, Harry," Draco asks, "that we could try again? Forget that this whole wretched business ever happened?"

Harry smiles and lets out a relieved sigh. "I'd like that very much." He throws his arms around Draco, and whispers, "Merlin, I hate it when we fight."

"Me too," Draco says softly. "Let's not do it again any time soon, huh?"

"No."

They share their first kiss in thirty-seven days, and Harry doesn't bother trying to hide how much he's missed the intimacy between them. He deepens the kiss and scoots closer, until he's practically sitting in his boyfriend's lap.

"Harry," Draco says a little breathlessly when they break apart again. "I don't think we should be doing that here, out in the open."

Harry blushes. "Um. You're probably right," he admits with a goofy grin.

"Of course I'm right." Draco grins back and slowly brushes his thumb over Harry's cheek. "We could go back to my room, if you'd like, assuming you've got your cloak with you."

"I've always got it with me."

Draco smiles. "Come on, then."

They get up quickly, and as soon as they're standing side by side, Harry can't resist stealing another kiss.

"Eager little brat, aren't you, Potter?" Draco teases.

Harry opens his mouth to utter some playful retort, but decides against it when he hears bright, carefree laughter in the nearby distance. He quickly ducks behind the nearest bush, pulling Draco down with him. His eyes widen in astonishment when he realises precisely whom he just heard. "That's… bloody hell… that's… that's Hermione!"

"It certainly is," an equally baffled Draco agrees in a whisper, "with Theodore Nott, no less." Grinning, he adds, "Looks like we're not the only ones around here who've been keeping secrets."

"Yeah." Harry sighs sadly. "Poor Ron, though."

_Excuse me for not feeling at all sorry for the git,_ Draco thinks, but he's smart enough not to say that out loud as well. "Come on," he whispers instead. "Let's get out of here, before they spot us, too."

Harry nods. Quietly, he follows Draco down to the dungeons. It's their last afternoon together before this school year's end, and he's determined to make the most of it.


	17. Sweet Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer between fifth and sixth year. A confession and a visit.

Draco takes a few hesitant steps into the living room. He spots his mother on the sofa by the fireplace, reading.

She appears calm and collected, like she doesn't have a single care in the world. That doesn't necessarily mean anything, though. Draco realises this all too well. After all, she was also a Slytherin once, and she's nothing like the vacant blonde so many people perceive her to be. She's smart and cunning and he can only hope that her love for him is big enough to accept what he's about to tell her.

Draco clears his throat. "Mother?"

She looks up from her book and gives him a dazzling smile. "Yes, darling, what is it?"

"I know this is a bit of a touchy subject at the moment," he begins carefully, "with Father… absent and heightened security measures in place and such, but I was wondering if, perhaps, I might be allowed to head into town today to do a bit of shopping?"

"Shopping?" Narcissa frowns. "If you need something, sweetheart, you only have to tell the elves. They'll be most happy to go in your stead."

"That's… um… not it… You see, it's for a birthday present and I'd rather pick it out myself."

"Oh? I didn't know one of your friends had a birthday coming up, Draco. Was it not marked on the calendar?" She smiles wearily and adds, "Sorry, love, I'm afraid I've been a tad distracted of late."

He smiles back and then takes a deep breath. "It's… not a friend exactly," he says softly.

Narcissa raises an intrigued eyebrow.

"The fact of the matter is… I've… become involved with someone."

"Really? Who's the lucky girl? Anyone I know?"

"Not…" Draco stands there, shuffling his feet nervously. "It's not a girl, Mum," he finally confesses, and holds his breath, hoping that his mother will understand and won't hate him for being… unconventional and having made a choice that's not exactly befitting of a Malfoy.

The woman on the sofa blinks. "You have a … boyfriend?" she asks carefully, while laying her book on the coffee table.

Draco merely nods. His heart is beating a mile a minute, but he's trying not to let it show. _Please don't react the way Father undoubtedly will,_ he thinks sadly.

Narcissa looks at her son, the handsome young man he has become. Part of her is surprised at the revelation, but then she wonders whether she should be. Draco has always been a little different from the average boy, more concerned with his appearance, more interested in reading, more artistically gifted (even though Lucius discouraged that sort of thing), and more sensitive, too, although he has always hidden it well. Maybe she would have seen this coming, had she thought in the usual clichés.

Then she asks herself if it actually matters whether he ends up with a boy or a girl. At the end of the day, she wants her son to be happy, and she'll always love him and be proud of him, regardless of what Lucius might say.

No, her husband won't be pleased when he finds out, of that she is quite certain, but then he's hardly in a position to say anything at the moment, is he?

"So," she speaks again, and gives her son a bright, encouraging smile, "have I met this boy?"

Draco's relief at his mother's acceptance vanishes when he realises what she just asked him.

"Um… No… Yes…" He rakes a hand through his hair. "My boyfriend is Harry Potter, Mother."

Her eyes widen. "Harry Potter," she repeats grimly. "Oh, Draco…"

"I'm sorry," he says quickly. "I know he's probably the last person on earth I should feel this way about… but he… we… I'm sorry."

Narcissa takes a deep breath. She's not impressed and definitely not amused, but if these last few years have taught her anything, it's that perhaps she's not exactly an expert on who's the right person one should love.

She pats the space next to her on the sofa. "Why don't you sit down, darling," she says, "and tell me everything, right from the beginning?"

Draco swallows hard. _In for a Sickle, in for a Galleon,_ he thinks and slowly walks towards the sofa.

  
***  
 

The shrill sound of the bell is an unwelcome interruption to what Harry hoped would be a peaceful afternoon.

He lets out a deep sigh, reluctantly trots downstairs, and opens the door. His eyes widen when he sees Draco standing there, his attire something that could almost pass for Muggle, if it weren't for the Nimbus in his hand being a dead giveaway.

"Good afternoon, Harry," comes the smug greeting. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Yeah, sure." Harry runs a hand through his unruly hair and wishes he were dressed a little nicer today. But he wasn't expecting any company, least of all Draco. Not that he isn't happy to see him, of course…

Draco saunters into the hallway as if his being in Pivet Drive is a common, everyday occurrence.

When Harry shuts the door, he feels a little self-conscious about his rich, pureblood boyfriend being in this tiny, bland house with its hideous orange wallpaper and tasteless seventies' furniture.

But if his surroundings actually bother Draco, he certainly isn't letting on. Instead, he whispers, "Happy birthday," pulls Harry into his arms and kisses him tenderly.

"T-Thanks," Harry stammers, still baffled that Draco's actually here with him. "But how did you… I mean, the Dursleys could've…"

"I saw the Walrus, the Ostrich and The Tub of Lard leave about ten minutes ago," Draco explains. "If I hadn't been confident that you were here alone, I would have come through your window."

Harry grins, not doubting the boy's words for a second, and carefully moves out of the embrace. "So, would you like something to drink?"

Draco nods. "That would be nice. It was quite a long flight from Wiltshire, you know," he points out, and follows Harry into the kitchen.

"How come you're here?" Harry asks, opening the fridge. "I mean, I didn't think your mother would let you get away, especially with everything…" He trails off. He doesn't want to mention Lucius, Azkaban or the Aurors keeping a close eye on the Manor—not now.

Draco smiles. "I'll spare you the tedious details, but the long and short of it is that I told her about us, and she agreed that I could come and visit you."

In his shock, Harry almost drops the Cola bottle. "You… what?"

"I didn't want you to be alone on your sixteenth," Draco says matter-of-factly. "That didn't seem fair, but I couldn't lie to my mum either, Harry. To anyone but her… Well, and you, obviously… "

Harry nods in understanding. He knows that Draco has a special relationship with his mother. The two of them have always been close, and Harry thinks Narcissa doesn't seem so bad. It's just a shame about the bastard she married. "Was she… all right with it?" he finally asks.

Draco smirks. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yeah. That, you are."

"So," Draco says, slowly walking towards the other boy, "how long do you think the terrible trio will be gone for?"

"A few hours at least. They've gone shopping. There's this huge Woolworths on the main street and Dudley will probably want to go and have a look at the computer games, too."

"At the _what_?"

"Never mind. A Muggle thing." Harry smiles. "You and I really come from different worlds, don't we?"

Draco shrugs. "Isn't it more important where we end up than where we came from?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Harry says with a mischievous grin, handing Draco his glass, "and aren't we full of philosophical wisdom today, Malfoy?"

"Oh, do shut up, Potter," Draco retorts in mock affront. He takes a sip from his Cola, and remarks, "Hm, this isn't at all bad. Tastes a little artificial, though, and I wonder how they put the bubbles in."

Harry laughs. "Never mind about the bubbles. What do you want to do while you're here?"

"I haven't seen you in a month, what do you think I want to do?"

Harry chuckles. "I suppose I can think of a few things."

"Good. First, though…" Draco reaches into his vest pocket. "I have something for you."

Wide-eyed, Harry accepts the present. He eagerly tears off the wrapping paper and opens the box inside.

"A silver snitch," he says softly when he sees the pendant. "Wow."

"Platinum, actually," Draco corrects him with a smile. "That seemed more original than gold; and besides, I'm a Slytherin. I can't be seen giving away gold things, that would practically be blasphemous."

Harry chuckles, still not quite sure what to say.

"It's charmed, too, for protection," Draco adds. "I can't publicly support you yet, but, you know, maybe this will help a little…" He trails off, feeling shy, suddenly.

Harry grins from ear to ear. "Thank you," he says, throwing his arms around Draco. "It's perfect. God, I've missed you."

"I should hope so," Draco says. "And likewise."

"Let's go up to my room, huh?"

"Yes."

Draco follows Harry up the stairs, and into the small bedroom.

And Draco knows very well that he's not supposed to use magic outside of school, that underage wizards aren't allowed to, but there and then, he decides that if it's a choice between a possible reprimand from the Ministry over an illegally cast Locking charm and the Dursleys walking in while Harry and himself are in the middle of something, the former is definitely far preferable to the latter.


	18. Ear To The Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning to Hogwarts for their sixth year.

Draco closes his eyes and tries to concentrate on the gentle fingers that are tenderly caressing his scalp.

This is his third infernal headache in only two days. Clearly, the situation with his parents is getting to him in more ways than one, and now to the point where it's affecting him physically.

He lets out a weary sigh.

"Still not feeling any better?" Pansy asks, her voice laced with concern. "Would you like me to go and fetch one of the teachers?"

"No," he assures her. "It's fine. I'll ask Severus for a potion later. Just tell Vince and Greg to keep the bloody noise down when they get here, would you?"

"Yes, of course. Try to get some rest, sweetheart. That might help."

"Hm."

Pansy looks down at the blond head lying in her lap. She doesn't know the whole story of everything that has happened in her best friend's life over the past few weeks, but judging from the pained expression on his face, she can only assume that most of it must have been horrible.

The door opens with an impressive bang. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle barge into the compartment, chatting animatedly about their travels and lamenting loudly that it's such a terrible shame that the summer's already over.

"Um, boys," Pansy interrupts them. "A little less racket, please? Draco's not feeling very well."

The burly duo instantly goes quiet and they both look at their friend worriedly. "What's wrong with him?"

"He has the migraine from hell," Draco replies and then remarks dryly, "Incidentally, Potter, you can come out of hiding now."

Pansy, Greg and Vince frown in confusion, until Harry climbs off a luggage rack, the one above the bench across from where Draco and Pansy are seated.

"Um, hello," the Gryffindor greets them sheepishly. He folds his Invisibility Cloak over his arms and then turns to Draco. "How did you know I was…?"

"You can only sneak up on a Slytherin so many times, Potter," comes the smug response, "before listening out for the distinct swoosh of your cloak becomes second nature."

"Oh."

"Quite."

"Harry" Pansy interjects. "I suppose you'll be wanting your boyfriend back. Handle him with care, though. He's got a gang of goblins drumming up a storm in his head."

"Very funny, Parkinson," Draco says with a mock-glare.

"And he has a bad case of the grumpies, too," she adds with a grin.

"What?!" Draco protests. "I most certainly do not!"

Harry shakes his head and smiles, before he carefully switches places with Pansy. The first thing he notices is that Draco's forehead feels hot and a little clammy, too, almost like he's running a fever. He's not coming down with the flu, is he?

"Come on, boys," Pansy tells Vince and Greg. "We're getting something to nibble, before the Weasleys have hoarded all the Chocolate Frogs."

Crabbe and Goyle nod and then the trio leaves the compartment, charming the door locked behind them.

"Are you all right?" Harry asks, slowly trailing his right thumb across Draco's face.

"No, not really," Draco admits with a weak smile. "It's been a long, tough and downright miserable August, Harry, and I haven't had a proper night's sleep in ages."

"Oh." Harry leans down to kiss Draco's forehead. "I've missed you," he whispers and begins to stroke his boyfriend's hair, which has grown a little longer over the summer. Something Harry definitely isn't complaining about. He loves playing with Draco's hair.

"Missed you, too," Draco says. "Next year, I'm kidnapping you and hiding you in my closet over the summer."

Harry chuckles. "That wouldn't be such a bad idea, you know. Anyway… if you're all right to talk about it… what made August so terrible?"

Draco sighs. "I take it you haven't heard the news about my father, then?"

"No." Harry frowns. "Did something happen to him?"

"In a fashion. They released him from Azkaban two days after your birthday."

"They… what?!" Harry exclaims, causing Draco to flinch as the noise sends another sharp twang of pain shooting through his head.

"Sorry," Harry says quickly, in a much softer voice. "But how come they released him, Draco? His guilt had been proven beyond any doubts, hadn't it?"

"Yes. But he provided them with some names and locations, Harry, and in exchange, they let him go."

"Names and locations? You mean…?"

"That's right. It would seem that certain people in low places greatly overestimated Father's loyalty to The Cause."

Harry's eyes widen. This is very unexpected, to say the least. "Where is Lucius now?" he finally asks. He can't imagine the man simply walking around and getting on with his life now. His betrayal must have made him plenty of enemies, even more than he had before.

"Somewhere in France; even I'm not allowed to know the exact location. Mother went to join him this morning, and a team of Aurors is now watching the Manor, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity, that sort of thing." He gives a wry smile. "You know, I practically had to beg my parents to be allowed to return to Hogwarts. Honestly, can you imagine me at Beauxbatons?"

"No," Harry says flatly. "Far too many pretty French boys with sexy accents over there, for one thing."

Draco lets out a soft chuckle. "Prat."

"Seriously though, I'm very glad you came back," Harry whispers. "I'd hate to think…'

"I should hope so," Draco says. "And it's partly thanks to you, you realise."

Harry blinks. "Thanks to me? What do you mean?"

"Somehow, Mother managed to convince Father that you'd protect me, keep me safe."

"But how?" Harry feels himself go pale as he starts to realise what the other boy's implying. "You mean… Lucius knows about us now?"

Draco nods slowly.

"Oh God."

"Sssh," Draco says soothingly. "It's fine, Harry. Honestly, it is."

"That man hates me, Draco. How could it possibly be fine?"

"Because you're looking after his only son and heir, and because Father also has this charming little theory that teenage romance never lasts anyway, that what's going on between you and me is just puppy love, and that even without any outside interference, we'll grow tired of each other soon enough, and so on and so forth."

"Right," Harry says, and he thinks that he'll show Lucius _sodding_ Malfoy a thing or two about teenage romance. Harry intends to marry Draco some day, and even if it turns out that he can't because they're both male, they'll still be together forever and Lucius _sodding_ Malfoy had better not get it into his arrogant head to try to split them up, because that might just end up being the last stupid thing Lucius _sodding_ Malfoy ever does.

"Anyway," Draco says again, breaking an odd sort of silence. "There's more."

Harry shivers. He doesn't like the sound of that, not at all. "More?" he asks in a small voice.

"Yes." Draco takes a deep breath. "Something seems to brewing amongst the Death Eaters, something big involving Dumbledore."

"What do you mean, involving Dumbledore?"

"I think they're going to try and… _incapacitate_ him in some way."

"Hurt him?"

Draco nods solemnly. "Through one of the sixth or seventh years, probably. Who knows, maybe the honour would have been all mine if Father hadn't…" He coughs nervously.

Harry swallows hard. He doesn't even want to think about something like that.

"I wish I knew whom to trust in Slytherin," Draco says softly, "aside from Pansy, Greg and Vince; and Severus, obviously…"

"How about Theodore Nott?" Harry suggests. "I don't think he'd date Hermione if he had issues with Muggleborns. And she's much too smart to fall for any kind of tricks."

"Hm. I've been thinking something along the same lines as well. And Nott would make an excellent ally. He's smart, and pretty low profile, too, for a pureblood."

"You mean he doesn't prance around bragging about his father's wealth like some other people I could mention?" Harry teases.

"You're a real bundle of laughs today, Potter. Truly."

Harry grins. He leans down for another kiss and says, "I'll talk to Hermione. Or try to."

Draco nods.

"This is going to be quite a year isn't it?" Harry remarks, suddenly sounding serious and a little sad again.

"Yes, but perhaps we should try to look on the bright side."

"There is a bright side?"

"Oh yes." Draco smirks. "I'll have you know that I'm a Prefect again," he announces proudly, giving Harry a meaningful look, "with all the usual privileges."

In response, Harry simply grins.


	19. I Confess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation and a proper reunion.

Stealthily, with Harry's invisibility cloak wrapped tightly around them, the two young men make their way down yet another corridor.

"There they are," Harry whispers.

Draco nods.

They halt in front of what turns out to be a girls' bathroom. They hold their breaths and keep as quiet as possible, trying to hear what the two people inside are saying.

"I can't believe you're actually thinking of breaking up with me." The voice belongs to Hermione. She sounds like she's been crying. "I can't believe you'd…"

"Not by choice, believe me," Theodore says dejectedly, and lifts up his left sleeve to show her what he can't put into words.

The boys by the door have to stop themselves from gasping out loud as the Dark Mark tattoo is revealed. Even Hermione is temporarily rendered speechless.

"And that wasn't my choice either," Theodore says grimly, "but there were threats against my father, my cousins, even Millicent. She's been my best friend since.... Anyway, you know I've already lost my mother because of… I couldn't let them take anyone else."

Hermione bites her lip. She's looking ghostly pale and Harry's heart aches for her, not in the least because he could have easily ended up in a similar position himself. What if Draco had joined Voldemort's ranks too? The very thought sends a shiver down Harry's spine.

"But that's not all, Hermione," Theodore continues. "My… Mark. Sometimes it almost feels like it's alive. It stings and burns a lot. I think _he_'s planning something big here at Hogwarts. Maybe some of the students are doing something or intending to do something or..."

"Some of the students?" The inquisitive side of Hermione's nature overpowers her fear and sadness. "Any idea who?"

Theodore smiles wryly. "I have a strong suspicion that Malfoy may be involved."

"Malfoy," she repeats grimly. "Yes. Of course."

"Maybe the Dark—maybe he'll let Lucius back into his graces if Draco does him a small favour in return. They're looking for Draco's parents, you know, and it'll only be a matter of time before they find them. It always is."

"Sounds plausible," Hermione agrees. "Any guesses as to what kind of favour?"

Draco shakes his head angrily. _Here we go again; if in doubt, blame the nearest Malfoy._ He lifts a hand to pull aside the cloak.

"Wait," Harry whispers urgently.

"No, Harry. Just let me do this. Trust me. I know how to handle Nott."

Harry frowns, but finally agrees.

Stepping out from under the cloak, Draco declares evenly, "I hate to be the one to tell you, Nott, but in this particular case, your assumptions are false."

In unison, Theodore and Hermione whip around, mouths agape.

Hermione's first reaction is to raise her wand and with an unsteady hand point it at Draco's chest. "Don't even think of hurting him, Malfoy, or I'll.... I'll…"

Draco smirks. "I'm not here to hurt him, Granger. I only came to talk."

"Really?" Still not lowering her wand, she gives him an accusing glare. "Why were you spying on us? How long were you standing there, listening in? And why should we even trust you in the first place? These past few years, you've done nothing but taunt and boast and sabotage and…"

Harry sees that she looks scary (no, make that downright terrifying), and he thinks that she might do something stupid soon. Maybe he should intervene before anything bad happens, before she hexes or otherwise harms Draco. He would never forgive her for that, and he would never forgive himself for not stopping her in time.

With one swift move, he shrugs off his cloak. "Hermione," he says quickly, "Draco's right. I mean, he's telling the truth."

Hermione's eyes widen even further. "Harry! What on earth are you doing here?"

"We wanted to talk to you," he says. "Well, to Nott, actually."

"We," Theodore cuts in. "You mean, both of you?"

"That's right," Draco says flatly.

"But… Bu-Bu-Bu—" Hermione stammers, looking like she's on the verge of spontaneously combusting.

Draco shakes his head. "Let's get the pleasantries out of the way with, shall we?" he says irritably. "So we can get down to business? You're clearly going out with Nott, Granger, and well, Harry and myself, we're…"

"Harry?!" she cuts him off sharply. "Wh-What on earth is Malfoy saying?"

Harry takes a deep breath. Hermione looks flabbergasted or irate or possibly both, he can't be absolutely sure, but the way her face is fast turning purple can't possibly be a good thing.

Nott, meanwhile, simply seems amused as he looks from Harry to Draco and then back again.

"Harry?!" Hermione repeats, significantly louder this time, the shrill sound echoing through the bathroom. "What in Godric's name is going on here?"

"Um… Draco and I… We're an item, too," he finally admits.

"You're _what_?!"

Harry seems lost for words, so it's Draco who tells Hermione the rest of the story, how the detention in the Forbidden Forest led to a secret friendship that eventually grew into a relationship. Once he's done explaining, Theodore Nott lets out a hearty laugh, unable to contain his mirth a moment longer.

"What's so funny, Nott?" Harry asks sternly.

The boy replies with a grin, "Don't tell me you can't appreciate the irony of all this, Potter?"

"Right. The irony," Draco interjects. "So, tell me, Nott, since you apparently aren't any more eager than I am to fight for that madman, is there anything we can do to help you?"

"Help me." Theodore inhales sharply, suddenly serious and solemn again. "I don't think…"

"Snape could grant you sanctuary at Hogwarts," Harry blurts out.

"Or we could go straight to Dumbledore and tell him everything," Hermione says. "I was about to suggest something like that before you two lovebirds showed up. Except you're no longer one of the suspects now I suppose, Malfoy."

Draco rolls his eyes. "Your faith in me is so heart-warming, Granger; I'm almost moved to tears."

"Um," Harry says, stopping a fight before it even begins. "Maybe we should all sleep on this and meet up again tomorrow, talk things over properly and set up a kind of… strategy once we've calmed down?"

"That sounds reasonable enough," Theodore agrees.

"Okay," Harry says. "I'll erm… walk Hermione back to the Tower, all right?"

"Yes, and Nott and I are heading back to Slytherin. You're coming down later too, aren't you Harry?" Draco frowns slightly as he asks the question.

Harry nods quickly. When Theodore and Hermione say their goodbyes, he wants to kiss Draco, their usual 'see you later', but he stops himself. Greg, Vince and Pansy are used to them being affectionate towards each other, they pay it no mind when he and Draco kiss or cuddle, but it would be awkward in front of Hermione; for now, anyway.

Draco, on the other hand, isn't in the least bit bothered by the girl's presence, so he kisses Harry on the cheek before he accompanies Nott back to the Slytherin section.

Blushing, Harry turns towards Hermione. The look on her face tells him that a thorough interrogation is about to hit him like a tidal wave.

 

***

 

When Harry returns, he hears the shower running. Eager to tell his boyfriend what happened, he hurries into the small private bathroom.

Draco greets him with a wide grin. "Barge right in, why don't you, Potter? No need to knock."

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but the sight before him stops him dead in his tracks, mesmerised. His eyes widen as he takes in his boyfriend's naked form, and the small pearls of water sliding down flawless, pale skin, all the way down to… Harry's breath hitches in his throat. His earlier talk with Hermione is suddenly the last thing on his mind.

Draco smirks, amused and flattered by the flushed expression on Harry's face. "Why are you gawking at me like that, Potter? You've seen me take a shower before."

Harry gulps. "Y-Yeah, okay, but…"

Draco chuckles. He slowly runs the bar of soap down his torso, relishing the way the gesture makes Harry look even more flustered. "Join me?" he suggests casually.

Harry doesn't need to be asked twice. It's been too long since they were close. It feels like ages since they last… _Well, it has been ages,_ he decides,_ more than a month now._ And his right hand is really no substitute.

He strips off quickly, removes his glasses, and gets into the shower, the pleasantly warm water cascading down his body. Soon Draco's arms are around him, pulling him close, and Draco's erection is pressing against his own, hard and eager.

"I've missed you," Harry whispers.

"Missed you, too. And Merlin, I've missed _this_."

"Yeah."

They kiss heatedly for a few moments. Harry takes Draco's hand and guides it down to his cock. "Touch me?" he asks in a whisper.

Draco smiles. "Gladly." He wraps his hand around the hard length and begins to stroke, softly at first but soon applying more pressure and picking up the pace.

Harry moans. He buries his face in the crook of Draco's neck and starts to move his hips back and forth, thrusting into the hand that's making him feel _SoBloodyGood._

"You know," Draco whispers, "someone down there is starting to feel a little lonely and neglected."

Harry grins sheepishly. "Sorry. I suppose I should do something about that."

"Yes. That would be the fair thing."

Harry sniggers, relieved that Draco seems so comfortable with himself, and with sex.

Not that this is technically sex; neither of them feels quite ready to take things that far (not just yet), but it's close enough and whatever it's called, it feels incredible, and despite Harry's nervousness, it's never awkward, because Draco is always so confident and Harry trusts him more than he has ever trusted anyone in his life.

He lets his right hand wander lower, giving Draco's cock the attention it urgently craves.

They kiss again and again, standing there, hot water still spilling over them, Draco leaning back against the wall and Harry holding onto Draco. In between kisses, they moan and gasp into each other's mouths as they stroke one another to completion.

Harry cries out first, spurting his release over Draco's hand and onto the blue tiles beneath them, and Draco follows soon after, groaning Harry's name.

Their foreheads pressed against each other, they stay there for a moment, catching their breaths. "Wow," Harry whispers, and Draco lets out a low chuckle in response.

A little later, each wrapped in a soft bathrobe, they're lying on the bed, cuddled closely together. Draco runs a hand through Harry's hair, that's still a little damp from the shower, and asks, "How did Granger take it?"

Harry shrugs. "She wasn't over the moon, but I suppose it could have been a lot worse."

"Hm. You're not currently strapped down to a bed in St Mungo's and I'm not missing any vital bits. It definitely could have been worse."

Harry grins. "Yeah. She's a just little hurt and angry that I didn't trust her and that I never told her about us, not even that you and I had become friends."

"Yes, because she's clearly in a position to point the finger, isn't she?"

"She said she kept her relationship with Theodore a secret for Ron's sake, to spare his feelings. "

"Sweet Merlin." Draco sighs, suddenly realising something. "Granger won't be telling Weasley about us now, will she?"

"No."

"Good. I don't think anyone needs a meltdown of that magnitude right now."

Harry smiles, but at the back of his mind he knows that sooner or later, he will have to tell Ron.

The two of them may have drifted apart since Harry became close with Draco and especially now that Ron has discovered girls, but at the end of the day, they're still friends, and Harry doesn't doubt that Ron would be very upset if he were to find out about this from anyone else.

Harry lets out a weary sigh.

"Tired?" Draco asks softly.

"Yeah. A little."

"Then let's get some rest."

"My pyjamas are still…"

"Never mind those," Draco says dismissively. He discards his bathrobe and gets under the covers.

Harry bites his lip. He's never slept in the nude before, but when he thinks about it, he's not really opposed to the idea. He shrugs off his robe too and joins his boyfriend. "Night, Draco," he whispers. "Love you."

"Likewise, you sentimental prat. Now go to sleep."

Harry grins. Enjoying the feeling of soft hair against his bare back and warm arms encircling his waist, he drifts off with a happy smile on his face.

It's good to be home.


	20. Too Good To Be True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When something seems too good to be true, it generally is, especially if your name happens to be Harry Potter.

"So, do you suppose your little Malfoy will appreciate what we've done with the place?"

Harry shakes his head in amusement. "Don't let Draco hear you call him that, Sirius," he says, "but yeah, I think he'll like it, as long as all the creepy portraits have been removed, especially that one."

The man grins broadly. "If it puts your mind at ease, our most beloved ancestor lives in the cellar now. She's most likely terrifying the rats even as we speak."

"Great."

"Well, I suppose I'll see you next Friday, then, Harry, along with your little—"

"Sirius!"

"Pardon me. Obviously, I meant to say, together with Draco."

Harry smiles. "Yeah. Right. Take care."

"Cheers, Harry. Do look after yourself."

The face in the fireplace fades and Harry gets up again.

Christmas holidays at number 12, Grimmauld Place. It's definitely something to look forward to, especially now that the old house is being refurbished, and what's even better is that Draco will be joining him there for their first-ever holiday together. It'll be brilliant, a Christmas to always remember, no doubt about it.

Grinning from ear to ear, Harry pulls his invisibility cloak around him and makes his way down to the dungeons.

 

***

 

Draco is lying on his belly in the middle of the bed, completing his Potions assignment.

"Ah. You're back," he says when Harry walks in. "So what did your _dogfather_ have to say?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "Very funny. You know, you two are as bad as each other."

Draco grins. "Well, he's a rotten branch of the Black family tree and I go through life breaking every Malfoy rule known to man on an almost daily basis, so I suppose a certain similarity would stand to reason."

Harry frowns. "You will give him a fair chance though, won't you?" he asks, suddenly serious and a little concerned. "I mean, you two are the most important people…"

"Shush," Draco cuts him off. "Of course I'll give him a chance. I agreed to come, didn't I? I only hope he'll be willing to keep an open mind about me as well. I know he doesn't think too highly of my parents, especially Father."

"I don't think that'll be a problem," Harry says, smiling. "It was his idea to invite you in the first place, remember? And he hasn't breathed a word about us to anyone."

"Thank Merlin. I just hope he manages to keep the Weasleys away, too. If they show up and see me there, the outcome won't be very pretty."

"He will, don't worry. He's very resourceful."

"Oh, I'll bet."

Ready to drop the subject, Draco reaches for Harry's satchel because that one happens to be lying closer to him than his own. He takes out the Potions textbook, flips it open and frowns.

"Harry?" he begins carefully. "What are these liner notes?"

Harry bites his lip. _Caught!_ He hasn't mentioned the Half Blood Prince's invaluable instructions to anyone yet; not even to his boyfriend, although the two of them generally don't have any secrets between them.

Draco shakes his head and remarks, "I was wondering why you were suddenly getting so much better at Potions. For a moment there, I thought it was just Slughorn being his usual brown-nosing self and giving you easier assignments than the rest of us." He glares at Harry accusingly before turning his attention back to the book. "This stuff is pretty advanced, you realise, and a lot of it probably isn't legal."

Harry swallows hard. It's been a while since Draco was last angry with him. They still bicker occasionally, and taunt each other all the time, but these days, serious arguments are few and far between.

"Where did you get this, Harry?" Draco asks sternly.

"Um," Harry mumbles. "I found it."

"You found it." Draco slams the book shut with a loud bang. "I see. And you suppose that was a coincidence, do you? Like Riddle's diary that happened to show up in second year? Or your name that inadvertently found its way into the Goblet of Fire? It's simply mind-boggling, Potter, how utterly thick you are at times! Didn't the last couple of years teach you _anything_?"

Harry swallows hard.

"Someone wanted you to find this," Draco goes on, getting more infuriated by the second, "and I don't think whoever it is intended to help you. I mean, some of the stuff in there. _Sectumsem—_ Do you even realise what that spell for enemies does, Potter?"

"No," Harry admits. He looks down at his hands, feeling terribly naïve and stupid.

"It slices said enemies to pieces. Literally. So it's not something you want to go around yelling at random people, even if you don't like them very much."

At those words, Harry feels a shiver run up and down his spine.

Draco takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "First thing tomorrow," he continues, "we return this to its rightful owner."

Harry blinks. "You-You know the Prince?" he stammers.

"The penmanship's a little sloppy," Draco says confidently, "but it looks to me like Snape wrote those notes. This would be just the sort of thing he'd do, too: lots of complicated Dark spells, the occasional poison in between; right up his alley."

"Oh," Harry says dumbly.

"Quite. So, tomorrow, Severus gets this back. And even on the off-chance that I'm wrong and it doesn't belong to him, at least he'll be able to tell us what to do with it, and he can test it for Dark Magic and whatnot."

Harry's head is reeling. "D-Dark Magic?"

"Yes," Draco snaps. "I guess you didn't think of that either, did you? There could be all sorts of enchantments cast on this thing." Suppressing a shudder as he contemplates that theory further, Draco quickly shoves the book into the bedside table drawer, slams the drawer shut and whispers a strong locking spell. "There."

Harry lets out a weary sigh. "I'm a complete idiot," he mumbles.

Draco turns and looks at the boy who's still standing there, rooted on the spot. "Forgive me if I don't disagree with you, Potter," he begins mockingly, but when he sees the distressed, defeated expression on Harry's face, he can't bring himself to continue in the same vein. So it's in a much softer tone that he adds, "But if it makes you feel any better, I love you anyway."

Harry rolls his eyes and grins, relieved that Draco's rage seems to be dissipating.

"Seriously though, you have to stop being so trusting, Harry. Didn't anyone ever tell you that if something seems too good to be true, it generally is? Not to mention, if you really wanted help with Potions, why didn't you come to me?"

Harry shrugs, unsure how to answer that. The truth is that it never really occurs to him to ask for help, possibly because he was never able to do so in the past. His aunt and uncle always left him to his own devices, to fend for himself.

"Just be more careful in future, would you?" Draco tells him. "I really shouldn't have to point this out, but you have quite a few dangerous enemies; and come to think of it, so do I probably, now that my parents have defected."

Harry nods, biting his lip.

Draco holds out his hand. "Come on," he says softly.

Harry slowly walks over to the bed, sits down, moves into Draco's arms and buries his head against the boy's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I… I wasn't thinking; as usual, I guess."

"No harm was done in the end," Draco says soothingly. "Just as well. You know, Granger really should have taught you and the Wea- Weasley to think for yourselves instead of just handing you all the answers on a silver platter every single time."

Harry pulls back slightly, looks at Draco and smirks. "Yeah, you're right," he says. "This is really all Hermione's fault."

Draco can't help but grin at that, as he feels the last of his anger fade away. He ruffles Harry's hair and remarks with a wide grin, "You've been spending too much time in Slytherin lately, Potter. You're getting way too cheeky for your own good."

Harry opens his mouth to retort, but an urgent knocking at the door stops whatever he's about to say.

"Yes?" Draco calls out. "Who is it?"

Rather than answer the question, Hermione Granger and Theodore Nott simply barge in.

Hermione looks frantic and slightly unwell. "There has been an attempt on Dumbledore's life," she blurts out. "Some boy in Ravenclaw, a seventh year, he...." She turns an even whiter shade of pale and has to grab her boyfriend's arm to steady herself so she doesn't fall.

"Ravenclaw?" is the first thing Harry can think of to say.

"That's right," Theodore snaps. "Believe it or not, Potter, but the other Houses have bad guys, too. Contrary to popular belief, it's not an exclusively Slytherin phenomenon."

"That's not what I-" Harry begins to protest, but Draco interrupts him. "Granger, you said there was an attempt on Dumbledore's life, so does that mean the headmaster's still alive?"

"Yes," she replies in a small voice. "Yes, he's… mostly fine. He was taken back to his quarters, I… I think."

Theodore gently leads Hermione to a chair to prevent her from collapsing. Harry turns to Draco and says grimly, "Looks like I'm going to have to face Voldemort again soon."

"No," Draco says firmly. "You're not just going to face him this time, Harry. You're going to get rid of the bastard for once and for all."

"Yes, you are," Hermione agrees, her voice determined though still trembling slightly, "and we'll help you."

Harry runs a hand through his hair and sighs. _Too good to be true, indeed._


	21. Secrets Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione come clean, Ron reacts appropriately (or not), and Draco and Theodore talk.

"It'll be all right, Harry," the girl reassures the rattled boy as they both make their way up the stairs.

Harry shakes his head. "No, it won't, Hermione. Ron's going to be furious at the both of us. He'll be really angry and insulted and hurt that we kept this from him for such a long time. He'll—"

"So, you two have finally decided to come clean, have you?" an amused voice calls out behind them. "About bloody time."

Harry and Hermione turn around and look at their friend in confusion.

"I'm not that thick, you know," he tells them, looking quite pleased with himself. "The two of you are an item, aren't you? I can't for the life of me understand why you didn't tell me a whole lot sooner. I don't mind, you know. I'm happy for you both. I mean, you're my best friends and all, and—"

"Um, Ron," Harry says quickly. "I'm afraid you've got it all wrong, mate."

Ron shakes his head and laughs. "You can quit denying it now, Harry. Really. Like I said, I don't mind at all."

"Harry's right, Ronald," Hermione interjects, raising her voice a little more than absolutely necessary because she appreciates neither the mockery nor the implication. "You're drawing the wrong conclusion. Harry and I are _not_ together, and that certainly isn't what we came to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Ron looks completely bewildered. "Then what have the two of you been sneaking off for, usually at about the same time? Not to mention, I rarely see you sleep in our dorm anymore, Harry, and Lavender told me that you're regularly missing at night, too, Hermione. Actually, it was her who first suggested that the two of you might be—"

"It's Draco," Harry blurts out.

"Huh? Dra— What? Malfoy?" Ron shouts, and when Harry gives a slow, guilty nod, Ron goes deadly silent as all the colour drains from his face. He opens his mouth, closes it again, and when he opens it for a second time, he yells incredulously, "Hermione's seeing the fucking Ferret; are you fucking kidding me? Has that bastard got you under _Imperius_ or something, Hermione? Should we go and see Pomfrey? Bloody hell, if I get my hands on him, I'll wring his bloody neck, I'll knock his block off, I'll hex him right into the middle of next week, I'll—"

"Er, no, Ron," Harry says, turning an unsettling shade of deep crimson. "It's not Hermione who's…. Hermione's with Theo. I'm the one who's seeing Malf- um, Draco."

"The-Theo?" Ron stammers. "Who the bloody hell is Theo? Wait! You don't mean Theodore Nott, do you, that skinny Slytherin? But hang on.. Wait a minute…." He takes a deep breath. "Did you just say you were seeing Malfoy, Harry? You must be joking…. Right?"

Harry clears his throat. "I'm not."

"So you're _not_ involved with Malfoy?" Ron says hopefully, looking like he's clinging to his final shred of sanity with all the determination of a drowning man clutching at a straw. "That is what you mean, right?"

"No," Harry replies evenly. "Draco and I are…. together, and we…"

Ron turns even paler, and Harry's Seeker reflexes kick in just in the nick of time; he reaches out and grabs Ron by the arm, saving the boy from making a very nasty tumble down the stairs.

 

 

***

 

"Do you suppose we should send up a search party?" Theodore asks, smirking slightly. He and Draco have been sitting in Draco's room for nearly an hour, waiting patiently for their respective partners to return from the dreaded talk with Ron Weasley.

"I'm sure they're fine," Draco says. "And even if Weasley does lose his temper, he's no match for Harry and Granger, not by a long shot. Maybe he fainted like the silly little girl that he is and had to be carried off to the Infirmary or something."

Theodore grins. "That doesn't sound completely implausible, from what Hermione has told me about him. He's scared of spiders, too, apparently."

Draco nods smugly, and goes on to say, suddenly sounding serious again, "What are your plans for the next few months? Do you have anywhere to go over the hols?"

"Yes, I do. It would seem that Mister and Mrs Granger are quite eager to meet me at long last."

"At long last?" Draco raises an intrigued eyebrow. "Pray tell, Nott, how long exactly have you and Granger been dating? I don't recall you ever telling me that part of the story."

Theodore laughs. "I don't recall you ever asking me about it, Malfoy. If I remember correctly, you were too busy bragging about your precious Potter."

Draco can feel a light blush creeping up his cheeks, but in true Slytherin fashion, he manages to hide it well—or so he hopes.

"Since the start of last year," Theodore continues. "Umbridge invited me to join her little Inquisitorial Squad, in a 'behind the scenes' type of capacity. She wanted me to find out what Hermione—'Harry Potter's clever friend,' the nightmare in pink called her—was up to." He smiles at the memory of the woman's speech, which, at present, seems rather tacky and ridiculous when he looks back on it.

"And…?"

"Well, I'm sure it'll come as no surprise when I tell you that Hermione spent most of her spare time in the library."

"No, it doesn't."

"So I started to hang around there too; discreetly, of course."

"Of course."

"One night she approached me about this book I was half-reading whilst at the same time keeping an eye on her."

Draco smirks.

"We started talking about that book and other books and school in general, and she turned out to be a rather interesting person, surprisingly refreshing to talk to."

"I see."

"And not at all bad on the eyes, either, wouldn't you say, Malfoy?"

"I suppose…. If you like girls."

"What?" Theodore frowns. "You mean, you're in no way attracted to the opposite sex at all?"

Draco shrugs. "Honestly, the only person I've ever been interested in is Harry, probably even before I realised it."

Theodore smiles. He still isn't quite used to Lucius Malfoy's son being gay, even though, in some topsy-turvy manner, it does make sense that he ended up with Harry Potter. After all, Malfoy and Potter have always been pre-occupied, if not plain obsessed, with one another, right from the very first moment they met.

"Anyway," Draco breaks the pensive silence. "Since we're being absolutely frank and honest with one another, you might like to know that Severus has been told where the Death Eaters' new headquarters are. The day after tomorrow, there will be a raid, and Harry will be going after… _Him_, too."

"Yes, Hermione told me."

"Right. So, will you be coming along?"

Theodore gives a wry smile. "I suppose I might as well; put all those years of private Dark Arts training to some good use."

"How old were you?" Draco asks, genuinely curious.

"Seven."

"A year younger than I was, even." Draco smiles. "You know, Nott, I think I'd rather have you for an ally than an enemy."

"Likewise, Malfoy," Theodore says, "and that goes for your precious Potter too."

Draco grins. All things considered, having another—powerful—friend in his own House is a very good thing, and who knows? Maybe in time, he'll get used to Hermione Granger, too; provided they all make it through the next few days alive.


	22. Making A Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny has a question for Harry and Harry, in turn, wants something from Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The second part of this chapter includes explicit m/m sex between two people under 18. If this bothers you in any way, please skip it.

As fast as his legs will carry him, Draco makes his way up the stairs, taking two, three steps at a time.

He sees Harry standing by one of the large windows in what used to be their regular meeting place a few years ago. "What are you doing up here, Potter?" he asks, slightly out of breath and very relieved to have located the boy at last.

"Waiting for you," Harry says simply.

Draco shakes his head. "And what made you so sure I'd know where to find you?"

"This is where we used to meet when we'd just become friends, so I imagined it'd be the first place you'd look. Wasn't it?"

"Not quite, you prat." Draco chuckles. "I just went all the way down to the dungeons and then over to the Quidditch Pitch as well, if you must know."

"Oh. Um- Sorry?"

Draco walks over to where Harry is standing. He wraps his arms around him and asks softly, "Why did you suddenly disappear after the briefing? What's bothering you?"

Harry smiles wryly. "It's a bit of everything, really. For one thing, the fact that Dumbledore will be accompanying us tomorrow. Have you noticed how old he looks lately? He seems to have aged a good twenty years since that boy attacked him. And then there's me, having to confront that bastard once again. It's all so—" Harry shudders.

"You're scared, aren't you?"

Harry inhales sharply. "No. I'm not scared. I'm bloody _terrified_, Draco."

"That makes two of us, then," Draco whispers, clinging to Harry a little tighter. "Promise me one thing, though."

"What?"

"Please don't ever shut me out like that again. The next time you decide to do a runner, at least wait for me to follow you, all right?"

"All right," Harry says softly.

"Okay." Draco smiles. They look at each other and kiss tenderly, pouring all the love and devotion they feel for one another into the kiss.

Harry closes his eyes. Love is the strongest force of all, Dumbledore once told him, and Harry is very grateful to have been blessed with plenty of it: from his friends, from the Weasley family, from Sirius, and of course from his gorgeous boyfriend who seems completely devoted to him…

It suddenly occurs to Harry that maybe tonight they could—

"Draco?" he asks carefully as they break apart, both breathing heavily. "I was thinking…"

"That sounds ominous, Potter. I hope you didn't give yourself a headache."

Harry throws him an affronted look.

Draco sniggers. "Sorry, go on…"

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but before he can utter a word, the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat sounds through the room.

The boys whip around to see Ginny and Neville standing there.

"Yes?" Harry blurts out, startled.

"We're coming with you tomorrow, Harry," Ginny declares resolutely, while her companion looks uneasy and is awkwardly shuffling his feet.

Harry gulps. "You're what?"

"You are going after Vol-Voldemort, aren't you?"

"How do you—"

"I overheard Ron and Hermione discussing it just now," she replies simply. "So that's a definite 'yes', I take it?"

"Well, I—" Harry looks towards Draco for some kind of sign or guidance. Instead, the boy merely shrugs. "Yeah," Harry finally says, "but honestly, Gin, I really don't think you should—"

"Oh, please," she snaps. "In case you hadn't noticed, given how you're clearly more interested in _boys_ these days, I'm not a little girl anymore, Harry, and that—that bastard almost killed me in second year, or had you already forgotten all about that?"

Harry frowns. He has to admit that in all her fierce determination, Ginny looks quite scary, almost as frightening as Hermione does whenever she has a bee in her bonnet about something.

"And I can handle myself," Ginny adds, crossing her arms in defiance.

"Ron won't like it," Harry tries as a last resort, but even to his own ears, that argument sounds feeble.

Ginny shrugs. "That'll be Ron's problem then, won't it?"

"Fine," Harry says at last, after a good five minutes of loaded silence. "We're meeting at the back gates at daybreak and we'll be taking it from there."

She nods. "Right. See you tomorrow at dawn, then… And by the way, Harry…" She smiles mischievously. "Don't worry, I never saw you snogging Malfoy here tonight."

With that, she turns around and heads in the direction of the door.

Neville gives Harry and Draco an apologetic grin and hurries after his girlfriend.

Draco snorts. "No prizes for guessing who wears the trousers in that relationship," he says once Harry's two friends are safely out of earshot.

"I don't like it, though," Harry says grimly. "All those people deciding to put themselves in danger like that, as if it's nothing." He shakes his head sadly.

"Well, Ginny is Ron's sister, so I suppose she wants to do her bit, and even with Aunt Bella out of the picture, I wouldn't be surprised if Longbottom still feels he has some unfinished business to take care of, and properly avenge what was done to his parents."

Harry sighs. "Yeah, maybe."

"It's their own choice, Harry. No one is forcing them to get involved; they're doing it at their own initiative. It's their responsibility; definitely not yours."

Harry nods slowly. He supposes Draco has a point, but that still doesn't mean he has to approve, let alone be happy about this.

"Anyway," Draco changes the subject. "You were about to tell me or ask me something before?"

"Um, yeah." Harry bites his lip, suddenly looking slightly flustered.

"What?"

"Um…"

"Harry? Come on, what's on your mind?"

"Er, well, I was wondering if—" He takes a deep breath.

"Yes?"

"Do you think we could um- go all the way tonight?"

Draco's eyes widen. He runs a hand through his hair, temporarily lost for words. This is just about the last thing he expected to hear.

"That's er- really bizarre timing on your behalf, Harry," he says awkwardly. "Not that I haven't thought about… us being that intimate, or don't want to take things to the next level, but—"

"But?" Harry repeats in a small voice.

Draco can't help but notice that the boy looks kind of lost and extremely nervous. It has obviously taken him a lot of courage to broach this subject, and his fear of rejection is written all over his flushed face.

"Are you absolutely sure about this, Harry?" Draco asks softly. "Do you honestly feel ready for us to… go that far?"

Harry nods. "I love you," he says, "and I'd like us to be together properly. And this may sound kind of corny, but I-I want to be as close to you as I possibly can tonight."

Draco swallows hard as he rakes a trembling hand through his hair. "Right. Okay. Come on, then."

 

***

 

Back in his Prefect quarters, Draco is shaking with nerves.

This truly isn't how he expected his first time to go. He always thought that when he and Harry would finally make love that they'd do so in his room at Malfoy Manor or maybe on a blanket in a secluded part of the gardens if the weather was nice enough. And it would happen after Hogwarts, after everything, not a few hours before what promises to be a great, defining battle.

Draco takes a deep, bracing breath and finishes towelling himself off. He and Harry took a shower together first, to relax and get in the mood. Not that either of them ever needs much extra coaxing to get interested in the other, but it seemed somehow appropriate this time.

"This ought to work," Draco says as he studies a jar of lotion he just took from the cabinet.

Harry nods slowly. "Yeah."

"Listen," Draco continues, "if at any time you should change your mind—"

"Yes, I know. Merlin, you've said that a hundred times already."

Draco playfully rolls his eyes, but his heart is still pounding in his ears.

A good ten minutes later, they're both in bed, naked. Draco is poised above Harry, kissing a trail down Harry's neck, chest, abdomen and thighs, purposely avoiding going anywhere near the boy's cock, until Harry lies there panting and practically whimpering with need.

"Guh. Draco. Would you—"

"You want me to try—"

"Yes."

"You're absolutely sure?"

"Gah! How many more times? Yes, Draco, YES! Damn it."

"All right." Draco smirks. "Patience is a virtue, you realise, Potter."

"I've waited long enough," Harry grumbles, making Draco snicker. "Stop teasing me already."

"Right, then."

Draco puts some of the makeshift lube on his fingers and on Harry's entrance, and he starts to prepare and stretch the boy as gently as he can, silently cursing himself that he never read up on this sort of thing like he probably should have done. After all, they were bound to get to this point sooner or later.

"Ready?" Draco asks after a little while, when even having three fingers inside of him doesn't seem to make Harry the slightest bit uncomfortable anymore.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay. Right."

Draco puts a generous helping of lotion on his cock, and then some more on Harry as well, just to make sure that they're using enough. He takes a deep breath, positions himself at Harry's entrance and carefully pushes forward, all the while watching his boyfriend's face intently.

Harry gasps, clenches his fists and squints his eyes shut. "Oh- Oh God."

"Fuck. I'm hurting you, aren't I?" Draco asks worriedly.

"No, I- It's—" Harry says quickly, his breathing ragged. "Just… Wait a minute. Don't move."

"All right."

Draco holds his breath. His heart is racing, and he's just about to ask whether he should pull out again when Harry says, "Um, I think you- Try going a little deeper?"

Draco nods and does so, gritting his teeth and biting back a groan. He didn't expect it to feel so tight, hot and wonderful inside Harry, and all Draco really wants to do is to start moving, plunge in and out of that delicious heat, but he realises full well that he has to hold back, at least for the time being, so he won't cause his boyfriend any pain. If he hurts Harry, even if it's only by accident, Draco knows he'll never be able to forgive himself.

Harry shifts underneath him. His face is flushed as he reaches up a hand and runs it down Draco's chest. "I love you," he whispers. "So much."

Draco smiles. Carefully, he manoeuvres himself down further, just for a moment, so he can kiss Harry on the lips. "I love you, too."

"So-" Harry grins. "Maybe you should start to- Um, I dunno, do something?"

Draco laughs softly. "That's just like you, isn't it, Potter? Lie there and let me do all the work, why don't you?"

Harry chuckles, but then he can't hold back a moan when Draco shifts and accidentally touches a spot deep inside of him that feels so- completely _brilliant_, like nothing like he has ever felt before. The sensation almost takes his breath away.

"What?" Draco looks panicked. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," Harry says. "Y-You did exactly the opposite."

"Oh." Draco bites his lip. "Would you like me to try to do that again?"

Harry nods. _"Please."_

"All right."

Three more slow thrusts, with Draco exercising as much self control as he can manage, and Harry lets out another moan.

"There?" Draco asks in whisper. "Was that the spot?"

"Yeah."

"All right. Good to know." Draco shifts most of his weight onto his left side and reaches his right hand down to stroke Harry's cock. "If it hurts, you will tell me to stop, won't you?"

"Yes." Harry grins. "Really, Draco, you sound even more nervous about this than I am."

"I'm bloody terrified," Draco says truthfully, and Harry doesn't think he has ever seen his proud boyfriend look so openly vulnerable. "If I hurt you, Harry, I—"

"Don't worry, I'll tell you to stop," Harry assures him, "though I honestly don't think I'll be wanting you to."

Draco drops a quick kiss on Harry's forehead and slowly starts to move, back and forth, in and out, all the while stroking Harry and focusing more on Harry's reactions than his own pleasure, distracting though the incredible sensations currently coursing through him are.

Draco is very relieved to see that Harry doesn't seem to be in pain. The boy is writhing beneath him, panting heavily, throwing his head from side to side, and making a number of enticing noises that go straight to Draco's groin.

Harry looks up through lidded eyes. "Draco," he chokes out. "I'm close. _So-Bloody-Close._ Go faster? Please?"

Draco nods. He finally allows himself to pick up the pace, and starts to thrust down harder and deeper, back and forth, pumping Harry's cock in time with his thrusts. It's just a matter of seconds until Harry screams Draco's name and spills his release over his boyfriend's hand and onto both their bellies.

Draco lets out a relieved sigh and finally lets go. A few more hard deep thrusts are all it takes. "Harry," he grunts out and climaxes inside his boyfriend for the very first time.

Carefully, he pulls out again. Feeling a little giddy, he lies back down next to Harry.

"I think we're going to need another shower," he whispers when he has his breath back. "We're all sticky and sweaty and- _wow_."

Harry chuckles. "I agree on the 'wow' part, but I'm not so sure I can still move."

Draco laughs. "Hm, maybe we should cancel tomorrow," he says offhandedly and adds in an exaggeratedly formal tone, "Sorry, Volders old chap, you know Draco Malfoy, the queer son of that other Malfoy, the one who betrayed you recently, buggered Harry Potter senseless last night, so your opponent won't be able to make it today. I fear we shall have to reschedule."

Harry laughs. "It's a surprise attack, you prat. Were you even paying attention earlier?"

"Yes, I was, actually. Unlike some people I could mention, I wasn't sitting there the whole time wondering how to broach the topic of shagging to my boyfriend."

"Hey!" Harry protests, but soon he's laughing again, feeling happy, relieved and more in love with Draco than ever.

They kiss tenderly. "We really should shower, you know," Draco says. "My mind's still buzzing too much for me to be able to cast a proper cleaning spell."

"Mine too, I think," Harry says, slowly sitting up. "Draco?"

"Hm?"

"Tomorrow, if anything happens, I—"

"Shush," Draco says. "Nothing's going to happen, aside from you ridding the world of that bastard at long last."

Harry bites his lip. "Yeah, but—"

Draco shakes his head. "No buts. Come on, Potter. Shower."

Harry nods and follows his boyfriend back to the bathroom, wishing he possessed even a tiny morsel of Draco's faith in him.

Whatever the outcome tomorrow, Harry knows that everything is going to change. He can only hope that it will be for the better.


	23. The Final Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day they've all been dreading is finally here.

As far as Draco's concerned, waiting is always the hardest and most irritating part of pretty much anything.

Of course, being the privileged Malfoy Heir, patience isn't something that comes naturally to him. When he was younger, all it required was a snap of his fingers, and immediately his heart's desire would be right in front of him, whether it was expensive chocolate from an exclusive shop in Paris or an important place on the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Not so here and now, however, as he stands outside the gates, accompanied by Harry, Vincent, Gregory, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Theodore and finally, Pansy—who wanted to be a part of this mission at least as badly as Ginny Weasley did, and who insisted loudly that she knew her way around a wand too, _thank you ever so bloody much, Draco Malfoy._

Predictably, Professors Snape and Dumbledore are present, too, and for reasons Draco cannot comprehend, Sybill Trelawney has also joined them.

The Aurors arrive twenty minutes late, looking rushed and mildly panicked.

Draco catches something about a raid in Bath, but not enough to fully understand what happened, and thus he experiences first hand how Harry must feel whenever he's purposely kept in the dark about important matters, something that really happens far too frequently, all things considered.

Moody, Lupin and Tonks (who's all fiery red hair and wide eyes this morning) step forward, as do a few others, some of whom Draco recognises from when his father was arrested and later released. Back then, he didn't ask for their names, and today he can't be bothered to do so, either. All that can wait until later—much later.

Moody gives his usual speech about constant vigilance, possible traps and forgoing stupid heroics, but Draco's attention focuses more on the way Harry is clutching his right hand so tightly that it almost hurts, and Draco hopes this is a gesture of determination, not merely fear, because at this stage, they truly can't afford to get too frightened.

The time has come. The day they've been dreading is finally here.

A Portkey takes them to base camp and from thereon out, everything changes into utter chaos.

 

***

 

It's an inconspicuous house in a dull and dreary backstreet somewhere at the heart of Muggle Manchester; possibly the last place anyone would think to look for a Dark Lord.

Draco might have appreciated the irony of the situation, if it weren't for the severe anxiety twisting his guts and turning his legs to jelly. Not that he lets on. He's a Slytherin, after all, and a Malfoy to boot. Showing weakness simply isn't done.

"We have to face him alone," Harry says, gesturing to himself and to Dumbledore, who's standing next to him and who seems to be more serious and determined than Draco has ever seen him, a far cry from the jolly, albeit eccentric and possibly a little loopy man most people perceive him as. He looks every bit the powerful wizard he actually is.

"I'm well aware of that, Potter," Draco says softly, "but that doesn't mean I also like it."

Harry smiles wanly. "I don't like it much either. Take good care of yourself. You know, watch your back."

"You too," Draco says, struggling to stop his voice from breaking and almost succeeding, though not quite. Making a point of ignoring the people around them, he pulls Harry into a crushing hug and he whispers, "I love you," against his cheek, and then he reluctantly lets him go, because he knows he must. He has no choice.

Harry has to fight and defeat Voldemort, as was foretold all those years ago, and as for Draco…

He, Theodore and Snape are the only ones with the knowledge and power to counter the complicated Dark spells, some of which are even unfamiliar to Moody, that start flying as soon as the intrusion has been detected.

"Fight fire with fire," his mother once advised him, and Draco does, time after time, relentlessly, forcing himself to focus only on the task at hand, and not to let his thoughts drift to Harry…

Amidst the pandemonium, he notices Vince fall and instantly get back up again. He witnesses how Pansy pulls Ginny back, and how the dagger that was about to hit the Weasley girl plunges into an armchair instead. He sees Neville being blasted a few feet up in the air and landing back on his feet just in time to deliver a stunning spell to the Death Eater about to throw some terrible curse at Greg.

Draco sends one of Voldemort's followers off to meet his maker and briefly wonders what his father would say if he could see him now. Lucius certainly wouldn't consider his son as a weak link of the Malfoy line any longer; assuming he ever did, that is, because the more Draco learns about his father, the less he actually understands the man.

A thunderous crash upstairs, followed by a loud, bloodcurdling scream, stuns everyone into complete silence, and soon a stench of fire and sulphur fills the room.

The remaining Death Eaters who are still standing appear rooted to the spot. Taking advantage of the ongoing confusion, the Aurors spring into action.

Draco is shaking. He takes a deep breath and counts to ten as Moody disarms another woman in a dark cloak.

Does this mean Harry…?

_Harry._

Fear fast turns into utter determination. Ignoring the pleas, cries and protests behind him, Draco runs to the stairs, hurrying in the direction he saw Harry and Dumbledore head off in earlier.

He gets to the top of the stairs and to the end of the corridor. He walks into the large room situated at the back where a fire is still smouldering, and the first thing he sees is Voldemort, or what used to be him, slumped down on the floor. A green, vile-smelling mist radiates off the remains. Draco wonders why the sight looks almost amusing as well as positively grotesque.

To his left, Draco discovers Dumbledore sitting back in a chair next to the bed. The old wizard looks ghostly pale and is breathing heavily. Draco is about to enquire if he's feeling well, when he spots someone else…

Harry is lying on the floor across the room from Voldemort. Draco swallows hard and rushes over, nearly tripping over his feet on the way and almost afraid to take a closer look once he gets there.

_Harry._

Draco tries to speak, but no words will come. He tries once more. "Harry." It comes out as a broken whisper and it gets no response whatsoever; it isn't even acknowledged.

"HARRY," he tries again, loudly, desperately.

Still met with total silence, he turns to look at the headmaster, who must be able to do something, _anything,_ to fix this, _please._

"P-Professor?" Draco stammers, not caring in the least that he's not acting in a dignified manner or that's he's losing his composure or looking wretched and weak. All he cares about is the motionless boy on the floor. "Professor, Harry- Harry- Is he-"

"There was a very strong surge of magic, Draco," Dumbledore starts to explain, his breathing still ragged. "Voldemort has been defeated, as you can see, and Harry… Harry is still unconscious at present. He will need a while to recover."

Draco swallows.

"He's severely exhausted, my boy, in more ways than one," the old wizard adds with a weary smile. "But then again, aren't we all?"

Draco turns back to look at the boy on the floor, gathers him in his arms, pulls him closer and holds him tight. And despite himself, Draco starts to cry, too relieved to care who might see or what anyone might think.

_"Unconscious," Dumbledore said. Only unconscious._

Burying his head against Harry's shoulder, Draco feels a soft touch on his face. He slightly loosens his hold on his boyfriend, shifts back a little and finds himself gazing into familiar green eyes.

"Y-You're okay," Harry croaks out before Draco finds the words to speak.

"Yeah," Draco replies with a watery smile. "Barely a scratch on me."

"A-And the others?"

"Shhh, try not to talk, Harry. Everyone's a little worse for wear, but we're all okay."

"Thank God," Harry whispers and clings to Draco for all he's worth. "I was so worried. After everything—"

"Harry?" a familiar voice calls out, and when he looks up over Draco's shoulder, he sees them: a small group of Slytherins and Gryffindors alike, his friends, looking dishevelled and tired. Parts of their robes are in tatters, and Goyle seems to have a kind of slime on him too, but the most important point is that they're all alive and look mostly fine.

Harry lets out a relieved breath and smiles.

"All right, everyone," Moody declares, authoritatively striding into the room. "They're expecting us all at St. Mungo's. Let's not waste any time here. There's still plenty of work to be done. Mostly paperwork, which will be a blast, no doubt about that. Professor Dumbledore, do you need any help over there?"

"Not at all, my boy," Dumbledore replies cheerfully. He gets up a little groggily but then adds with a bright smile, "Lead the way."

Draco is vaguely aware of the trip to the hospital, in a special carriage sent by the Ministry, although most of his attention goes to Harry. The whole time, Draco doesn't let go of the boy's hand, not for a second, and slowly it starts to dawn on him: their life is finally beginning.


	24. Piece By Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco make plans for the future.

Ron takes a deep, bracing breath and at last finds the courage to knock.

"Yes, come in," a voice that clearly belongs to Draco Malfoy calls from inside the room. "It's not locked."

Hesitantly, Ron opens the door. His eyes are immediately drawn to the large green sofa on the left side of the spacious quarters. Malfoy is sitting there, reading a Quidditch magazine, and Harry is lying down, resting his head on a fluffy pillow in Draco's lap.

"Hello Weasley," Draco says noncommittally, and turns his attention back to his reading material.

Harry smiles widely. "Hey, Ron."

"Um, hello," Ron replies awkwardly and quickly adds, "No, don't bother getting up, Harry. You're supposed to be taking it easy. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Harry says. "Nothing some rest can't fix, according to Pomfrey."

"That's good to hear. Um—" Ron nervously shuffles his feet. "Listen, Mum Owled me this morning. She was wondering… Well, seeing how we never really got around to celebrating Christmas or New Year's, not with that whole Vol-de-mort business and everything, and well, anyway, Mum will be throwing a belated Christmas Dinner at The Burrow next week Friday. Dumbledore's all right with us having the time off school, but I—she—well, we were all kind of hoping you'd be able to be there too, Harry, and"—he coughs—"Malfoy's invited as well, if he'd like to join us. You could have Percy's old room for the night."

Wide-eyed, Harry looks over at his friend and then up at his boyfriend, who has just put his magazine down on the table next to him. "Draco?" Harry asks softly, hesitation evident in his voice.

Draco smiles. "Would you like to accept their invitation, Harry?" he whispers.

Tentatively, Harry nods. "Yeah, but if you don't want to go," he replies in a hushed tone, so Ron can't hear, "I'd rather just stay here with you instead."

Draco takes a deep breath. His own feelings towards the Weasleys aside, he fully realises that those people are the closest thing Harry has ever had to a proper family. Denying the boy Christmas with that family would be selfish and cruel, and besides, if Ronald's willing to be civil (the others generally aren't as much of a problem) Draco doesn't see why he wouldn't be able to do the same, if only for Harry's sake.

"All right, Weasley," he finally says. "You can thank your mother and tell her we'll be happy to be there."

"Oh- okay," Ron blurts out, gob-smacked. He definitely expected more of an argument, or a very snide 'No' instead. "Right," he says. "I'd er- best be off, then; send a reply to Mum. She's going to be well chuffed. Fred and George too. Catch you later, yeah, Harry? Bye, Malfoy."

Not bothering to wait for a response, he bolts out the door.

"Thanks," Harry whispers. He takes Draco's hand, and he almost looks like he's about to cry.

"Don't mention it." Draco smirks. "As long as you're there with me, I imagine I'll manage to behave—in a fashion."

Harry grins. "I'll hold you to that."

"You know," Draco adds softly. "Eventually, when it's finally safe for them to return to Britain, my parents will want to- well, they've already met you, obviously, but there will be other occasions such as Christmas and birthdays and—"

Harry nods slowly. He understands what Draco is alluding to. From hereon out, now that the threat of Voldemort has forever passed and their relationship is out in the open, the Malfoys will become a part of Harry's life in the same way that Sirius and the Weasleys will play a more prominent role in Draco's.

Harry bites his lip as he thinks this over. Truthfully, Lucius Malfoy still gives him the creeps, but he has a feeling that Narcissa is nice and reasonable. She seems to dote on her son, for one thing, and would never willingly cause the boy pain.

"You're right," Harry says at last. "After all, this is supposed to last forever."

"Hm. You know," Draco begins hesitantly as he absentmindedly runs a hand through Harry's hair. "I've been thinking about that."

"What?" Harry frowns. "How do you mean?"

"We leave Hogwarts next year. Maybe we should get a place of our own by then?"

Harry's eyes widen. "You mean- together?"

Draco nods. "Between your inheritance and the money Father will undoubtedly give me when he finds out (if only so he wouldn't be outdone by Harry Potter), we can certainly afford it. Possible alternatives are the Manor, but I'm afraid you'd be rather uncomfortable there; and Grimmauld Place, but that belongs to Black; I'd hate to impose on the man."

"I don't think he'd mind, honestly, but I don't like that place much myself either," Harry admits. "It's so… dreary."

"Probably always will be," Draco supplies. "No matter how much money they spend on renovations. It's the spirit of the house."

Harry nods.

"So, Potter, what do you say?"

"I think." Harry takes a deep breath. "I'd love to move in with you after Hogwarts. You know, they all kind of expect me to become an Auror, but—" Harry sighs.

"You're a little tired of fighting the bad guys?" Draco finishes for him.

"No, I'm _very_ tired of it."

"Understandable. And I won't lie to you, Harry; I'm rather relieved to hear you say that." He chuckles softly. "I'm not terribly fond of the idea of having to worry about your safety every day for the rest of our lives."

Harry just smiles.

"So, what would you like to do instead?"

Harry shrugs. "This is probably going to sound really stupid, but I was thinking of going into teaching."

"Teaching?"

Happy to discover that his boyfriend sounds genuinely interested, not doubtful or mocking, Harry continues, "Defence Against the Dark Arts, if they'll have me."

"You do realise that DADA teachers tend to expire rather abruptly around here, don't you?" Draco grins. "Hogwarts needs someone with a phenomenal amount of luck to fill such a perilous position. I'd say that already makes you overly qualified by default."

Harry laughs. "You don't think it's a stupid idea, then?"

"No. Actually, I've been considering taking extra Potions classes next year, and maybe try for an apprenticeship. Severus suggested as much. Slughorn won't be returning after the summer, apparently, and Lupin has agreed to take DADA again, temporarily, before he and Tonks move overseas, so… If I do that apprenticeship, I could be appointed as Severus' assistant the year after, but—"

"But?" Harry gestures him to continue.

"I didn't like the prospect of being separated from you for months on end, or forcing you to live here again and twiddle your thumbs while I was working. Besides, it's not that I _have_ to work, either, so I haven't given Severus my answer yet, but if we'll both be teaching…"

"You're going to accept?"

Draco nods. "I will if you speak with him, too, about the DADA thing, check whether that's a feasible option."

"Sounds like a good plan." Harry smiles. "You know," he adds after a few minutes of comfortable silence, "on the subject of plans: the coming weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend. I was thinking-" He bites his lip.

"Are you trying to ask me out on a date, Potter?"

Harry nods. "It's about time we went out on a proper date, isn't it? Like a regular couple? We've missed out on so much already."

"You won't get any argument from me there," Draco says softly, "but are you sure you're already feeling up to it? Sitting around a table in the Weasleys' warm living room is one thing, but walking around in the cold for hours, and possibly having a lot of people come up to you, asking annoying questions, and—"

"Stop fussing." Harry smiles. "I'll be fine. You'll take care of me, won't you?"

Draco grins. He can definitely see the merits of finally being able to go somewhere together as a couple. No more hiding. Not to mention that this would give him an excellent opportunity to take Harry shopping, too, to do something about the boy's ghastly wardrobe. Nevertheless, he should probably ask Severus for some Restoration Potions before they leave, just in case.

"Draco?" Harry breaks through the boy's musings.

Draco looks down at his boyfriend, who's still waiting for an answer, and he says sincerely, for the moment not caring how sappy or girly he may sound, "Of course, Harry. I'll always take care of you."

Harry smiles. Carefully, he sits up and tries to ignore the dizziness that overcomes him. He still feels a little weak, but he's getting better all the time.

He wraps his arms around Draco's shoulders. "Likewise," he whispers in the boy's ear, and kisses him soundly. "Always."


	25. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of school, many years later.

The dark-haired man walks into Professor Malfoy's office and smiles widely at the sight that greets him there. "Please, Draco," he says. "Don't tell me you're already going to lumber those poor kids with a test tomorrow."

"Not at all, Harry," comes the offhanded response. "I'm merely composing a letter."

"Oh?" He walks over to stand behind Draco's chair, wraps his arms around him and peeks over his shoulder. "What's it about?"

With a mischievous grin, Draco replies, "I'm informing the esteemed Mrs Weasley-Parkinson that her freckle-faced firstborn was sorted into Hufflepuff today. That should make her night, don't you think?"

Harry shakes his head. "You, Draco Malfoy, are an evil specimen."

"Hardly," Draco replies smugly. "It serves her right for marrying Ronniekins. She used to have a far better taste in men, if I recall."

"Some things never change," Harry mutters, but his smile reveals that he doesn't actually mind. These days, most of the arguments between Ron and Draco are just for old times' sake anyway. Any genuine dislike between the two has long been dealt with, and Pansy didn't even have to go so far as to lock her best friend and her husband into a room together to accomplish it, even though many such threats were uttered at the time.

"Hermione will be very proud that Amanda was made a Ravenclaw," Harry says conversationally, eager to change the subject. He doesn't really fancy getting into banter about Ron, no matter how friendly it might be.

"Yes." Draco grins. "Miss Nott is considerably less of an embarrassment to her parents."

He beckons the large brown owl and hands it the missive. The eager bird flies off instantly.

"Anyway, Harry," Draco says, folding his hands in front of him. "There's something I'd like to talk to you about, something rather important."

Harry kisses Draco's cheek, walks to the front side of the desk and takes a seat across from him. "What?"

"Right," Draco begins. "To get straight to the point: I've been asked whether I'd be interested in being appointed Head of Slytherin House."

Harry eyes widen. "What? You mean, Snape will be leaving?"

Draco chuckles. "No. Not quite. Dumbledore has apparently decided to retire."

Harry frowns. "Retire?"

"Well, it would be about time, wouldn't you say? I don't know how old he is, exactly, and it would be rude to ask, but he can't keep going on forever, can he?"

"No," Harry says, looking a bit confused, "but I still don't understand what this has to do with Snape or Slytherin House..."

"Ah." Draco grins. "Severus has been offered the position of Headmaster."

"He- What?" Harry gasps. "Wow. I always expected that McGonagall—"

"So did Severus, apparently, but as it turns out, she's not interested. She'd rather carry on teaching. Word has it that Severus was very dismayed when he found out. He even accused McGonagall of saying no just to annoy him. 'He acted like a petulant child,' Sybill said. Mind you, I don't think he really cares all that much. He's hardly a people person, is he, or the type who actually enjoys teaching?"

"That's the understatement of the decade." Harry grins. "So, are you going to accept?

Draco twirls his quill between his fingers. "Possibly. Unless you think Flint would make a better candidate?"

Harry frowns. "I've always been surprised that he even knows the right way to sit on a broomstick, let alone teach others how to fly."

"Careful there, Potter." Draco smirks. "You're almost starting to sound like me."

Grinning sheepishly, Harry shakes his head. "Anything else I need to know about?"

"This afternoon, Alexandra Goyle and Geoffrey Finnegan had barely entered my classroom, or they were already shouting obscenities at one another. That Finnegan boy has quite a mouth on him, not to mention the colourful vocabulary that comes with it."

Harry sighs. He'll have to talk to Seamus again. "So, what punishment did you give them this time?"

"They both have detention in the Forbidden Forest tomorrow night."

"Oh? Why?"

"That sorted us out, didn't it?" Draco remarks with a sly grin.

Harry chuckles. "Yeah, it did." He reaches across the desk and takes Draco's hand, linking their fingers together. "Are you going to be much longer?"

"No. I'm almost done."

"I'm going to bed."

Draco smiles. He looks at the man who's sitting there, all wild hair and wide green eyes. He hasn't changed much since they were both sixteen, but he does look a lot happier and more relaxed these days.

"I'll be right with you," Draco says. "I'm just going to Owl Mother the good news before Severus beats me to it. We'd never hear the end of it otherwise."

"All right," Harry says. "Don't be too long."

Draco smiles. Even after all this time, Harry still hates the idea of falling asleep by himself. They haven't slept one single night apart in over a decade.

They became inseparable as soon as it was safe to, and three weeks after finishing Hogwarts, they were married in a small ceremony at Malfoy Manor. Well, small by Malfoy standards at any rate, which meant that there were less than three hundred guests and no members of the press present.

_Silly, sentimental Gryffindor,_ Draco thinks. "I won't," he says, and resumes writing.

Harry nods, gets up and yawning, walks into their sleeping quarters. It has been a long, exhausting day. The first day back always is, even if it's fun too, especially watching all those first years all excited about their new school and its sorting ceremony—with a lot of added wonder from the Muggleborns who get their first taste of a magical world they knew very little about previously.

Smiling, Harry changes into his pyjamas and climbs into the big, comfortable bed.

Barely ten minutes later, he feels a familiar slender arm snake itself around his waist. "That was a very short note," Harry whispers into the darkness. He can practically feel Draco's smirk against his shoulder as the soon-to-be Head of Slytherin House responds smugly, "I wouldn't want you to lie here, pining for me, Potter."

"Prat," Harry says.

"Yes, I love you, too. Goodnight."

"'Night, Draco," Harry murmurs and not before long, he's sound asleep. He doesn't dream, and he hasn't had any nightmares for years.


End file.
